Blue Sky

[Verse 1: Chubby Jag] Aye look, can you help me find my way back I don't know where I'm going now And on this shit we blowing down, all this Henne going 'round All my niggas with me turn, got the hottest show in town Feel like Homecoming the how, (we got it going down) I'm like, why tell 'em niggas, niggas knew your odds But I guess snitching is a gig, you gotta do your job I keep my talking short, yep I stay on my laundry I was born by my self, I can't wait on my homies You got your last hundred, you just opened last shoe Running out of options home, all your bills past due Got that funny feeling when you see the 'Cedes pass you All that money got you going nuts so, cashew I got my army on standby, wait for the captain Funny how I happen to make it to making it happen I ain't fall off, I chose to stay to the rapping It's like if you a gun to shoot, just stay to the clapping I got enough cake, chilling in my plus place But you get out of line, I'll gladly get the duck tape Remember when them hoes used to hit me with that stuck face Act like she don't know me, now they hit me with that fuck face And I'm like, I know why you on it now girl But I'm all about my money, I don't want it now girl You really need it, I hear they (??) And that plane ass chain, I got stones in it now girl That's reality, I've been in my fiction bag Got my girl switching bags, got a nigga switching Jags We used to be up in the mall, niggas clipping tags Now I'm in that bitch with cash, hating niggas getting mad Cash here, getting glad, cash going always do it Cash rules (everything around me), yeah I always knew it I'm the nacho man, the moola to guapo man For that cheese I say, ew, yeah, Macho Man Niggas used to move the cream, the gelato man My shit red, make you Dipsets like Vado man I'm too reckless, got the Angel on my chest Like a new necklace, I swear I'm too precious I'm protected like I've been walking with two vests And I keep an L on me like a new Lexus I blow it down, you know me my 'piff official I shoot my gats, you here me I grip the pistol My clique official, you hear me, we pitching packs I'm watching the chicken stack, the bomb, I'm Mr. Missile I'm kinda stoned off the E, and I'm kinda on I make you feel like a kid, girl is your momma home Eyes raised right, I ain't bringing that drama home And the same breathe eyes bringing that llama home Eyes on the kill everything, shit Osama on Moving white, out the White House, shit Obama on Chubby remember getting stoned off the dime B Watching reruns Soul Train and Don C Damn, sad we had to lose another great That shit right there is forcing me to do another take It ain't no place like home, it ain't another place By Cali I mean that I can't name another state I got my weight up, yeah I'm talking P-90 You don't want it with my little goon (??) Yellow stones in the brightening, cause he shiny In the club with the lights off, and she fine We don't add up holmes, it can't be calculated I just bust on this track holmes, ejaculated Niggas used to sit in buses, now we sit in coupes Door lift to the sky, but it's missing roofs We running this shit nigga, you running They owe me like (??)