Nappy Roots Ft Jarren Benton - No Idea (crafted Instrumentals 3)

copa

ft. Jarren Benton

Rozay, rozay, wide tops, rozay
Serve light, bud light, wide tops then hoes say
‘60’s, bang it, I don’t shoot, I slang it
‘30’s, Pablo, no thanks, just hanging
Shrooms keep me up, shrooms keep me up
My blunts catching on fire, damn it, I see red drugs
My eyes may be rolling but damn me, I’m holy
I’m just outside my body, that’s some shit I ain’t controlling
Damn, I think I’m hit, man down, mayday
Damn, I’m drunk as hell, I could tell it must be payday
Bootleg, Billy Four, ’93 octane
Smoking on that green crack, sipping lean, quit cocaine
Boom, that’s a tummy ache, tomorrow I’m gonna vomit
Tonight I’m gonna talk shit then hit the streets and run it
My date look astonished, I’m just paying homage
Told her love me now ‘cause when I come down I plummet

We mobbing, wiping, San Diego, we charging
90 all the way to Boston, fuck the laws, we dodging
Steve Austin, six milli’, dead presidential, hood presidential
Hotter than fresh chilly, we conjure out here Billy
Oh really, oh mighty, Lord have mercy, make this worthy
16 bars and flawless verses, ride the wave, don’t fight it
Roll it up then light it, mean look but I’m excited
Kick a bad bitch that go both ways, you know a partner’s invited
Vacation, vacation, two bad broads in one location
One in the cut, one on deck, I keep ‘em in rotation
Ovation, outstanding, higher the plane I’m landing
These haters wanna see us crash and burn
These motherfuckers can’t stand me
In Vegas, Miami, Kentucky raised, I’m fucking paid
I bust a great just like your head, spontaneous, no planning
Call the law, I dare you, we hit the bitch, you murder
Live ain’t fair but don’t blame us, it sucks, nobody ain’t tell you

Yeah, I’m so high I could skydive off the moon
Mister big hit fuck off your afternoon
I got a bag of shrooms and a hoe to suck me like a vacuum do
I’m so off I should rap inside a padded room
Fuck you and your faggot goons
Badabing, badaboom, kick the fucking scabs off the wound
I told that bitch I’m making hip hop back there
Shit ain’t there, I just took the bitch out of tune
Yeah, nigga, million dollar craft, in a U plane, call it Gorbachev
Any minute, bitch, we gonna orbit off
And if the pussy smell bad then my dick gonna solve
Word to my nigga skinny as scales
We put his body in the ocean where amphibians dwell
The grim reaper of rap, I’mma send him to hell
And you the type of nigga that’ll stick his dick in the mail
I am too cool for these niggas
Can go on all day, never change, nigga
Get dough, tryna stack my bread up
To the point…adios when I’m out the bitch coochie
Fuck it…
I talk to myself ‘cause these niggas all fake
Reptilian, I bet these niggas all snakes
We gonna get cake
Fuck it, let these niggas all hate