For Seasons

[Verse 1: Curren$y] Higher than ever, gray leather Head rest, 2 letters, double S's I love them Chevys to death These niggas fakin' they ready for gettin' they lines on set I don't know how to play they role, they more inclined to play themselves I just live amongst them trees Bakin' goodies, keebler elves Smokin' with them bitches got em' focused in the kitchen Pots whippin I'm chillin' My and my nigga' grub like kings and then we dippin' Interstate, lane changer, Rover Rangin' 96 Lighters flickin' like them blinkers A motivated stoner mind blown but I be thinking Matchin' Benzes in ten days kid, live to talk about it like Ace did [Hook x2] We just worryin' bout the money them bitches gon' come We just worryin' bout the money them bitches gon' come We just worryin' bout the money them bitches gon' come Nigga pay that up front like the Ferrari trunk [Verse 2: King Chip] Yeah my nigga we in this bitch Smokin' strong that's the long Got some shit that get you gone YSL, Dior Homme I'mma do this whole verse without no punch lines King Chip really livin' fuck the one time Spitta hit me up when I was in Vegas, like you need some weed? I say hell yeah must have read my mind, where it be Twelve thousand dollar outfit in that Tech G I don't owe nobody shit, King Chip debt free Matter fact, couple Cleveland killers owe me I can tell 'em keep it, have 'em run up on you no P Locked inside my head, hella weed, hella dead cops Me and Spitta smoke too much to not have dread locks Stalking haters on my Twitter, sniping 'em with headshots Bitch ass eighth grader, fucking hater dead now Damn that nigga Chip is crazy, maybe it's the weed, Spitta E'rybody know that ain't nobody cold as these niggas [Hook x2]