Wuts That

[Hook] WUTS THAT We all up in this bitch WUTS THAT Pack up the plats, pass me the gut bag WUTS THAT (roll up) It’s 3:59 nigga, take a sip, face a rip, all my homies in this bitch WUTS THAT We all up in this bitch (we in here nigga) WUTS THAT Pack up the plats, pass me the gut bag WUTS THAT (roll up) It’s 3:59 nigga, take a sip, face a rip, all my homies in this bitch [Verse 1: PETE] My nigga I’m the stoned bong ripper Uptown rain hit you hard like liquor Hi, bitch niggas, for you high pitched tenors, I’m the fuckin’ tone setter Heard you singing something real, sounding real falsetto Head over heels for the mills, still I’ma never chill ’til my bank account filled and my cat got a grill All I do is feel up the meanest sluts, the cleanest cunts that fiend to fuck, and lean the Blunts Scheme with us and the Ds enough Said your man need a gram cause he’s a dub Why you brought that bitch around, I’ma leave with her Nah nigga you fucked up, I am a custie and a connect I’m lucky I got the flow ‘cause I’d probably smoke my whole pack (light it) Now nigga WUTS THAT, you talking shit oh I didn’t hear Over the loud we smoking we getting high over here Can’t hear you nigga WUTS THAT Ignoramus, talking shit won’t get you famous Put your opinion in your anus, and your name is? I don’t give a fuck nigga [Hook] [Verse 2: IZZY] Same nigga from the jump, so jump ship ‘Cause I swear I won’t stop nigga you can hate me now My niggas got no chill button, but chillin with your bitch, bitch nigga like break it down Bronx bred, used to love Theresa from the Ursula bitches, giving bomb head Now Ivy League bitches giving bomb head, and she ain’t even have a clue that we on next Bon appétit, rocket broccoli, got me leaked, can’t imagine where I’m at (at home) Olly olly oxen free, fuck that where the molly molly oxy be P­poppin in like what’s popping, got a few cuff hoes tryna be options Opting into my dick, young nigga ‘bout his, what the fuck I care if I’m a little obnoxious Fucked up, I need a buff blunt, like stop playing niggas know what’s up And if you ain’t got chips nigga tough luck, ‘cause I throw it up like I don’t get enough love At the MoMA, feeling like Hova, working on a blueprint, watch me take over Nigga I strive under pressure, live from the Mecca Going’ in my thing until I’m lying on a stretcher [Hook] [Verse 3: ILLZ] So let me paint you a picture, we on the couch in my crib She snort blow off the records, when we fuck man I punch in her ribs Poppin’ the lid on all these ideas, with all of my sons no wonder they see us They need us, they know us, they thought I know you feeling a way but don’t start You aiming too far, you ain’t gonna hit shit, though I been drinking and munching on biscuits Your bitch wanna french kiss slow for that (not), tell one of my homies to hold my pack (hot) If you want static then change the backdrop, if you ain’t about it then hit the ragtop Before you talk shit better get a laptop, in this bitch with a bunch of have­nots BOUNCE BOUNCE Walking on you motherfucking bitches, baptism at the bar got ‘em feeling so religious Wasn’t luck, it was physics, if they love you then they love you I ain’t better just above you, be a shame if I wasn’t And the sweetest of the purples keeps me coasting like a buzzard Big shout out butta butta (butta butta!) he said hurry up and light it Son don’t fight it put your lighters up, the night is young, I’m feeling chilly Hiding my drugs, promoters screaming WHO THE FUCK INVITED ‘EM [Hook]