I said chilling in my tipi, no Indian but he be
The realest shit, I must admit, I’m basking in my feces
My style is harder, yours is watered down, Fiji
The bible or my CD? Both of them are said to be the
Formula to live your life, or coping with the ills
No time to play kid, I think you needs to chill
Houseparty with killers, pray for it to defill us
Where exes think it’s buffy, and chandeliers hang from ceilings
I’m dreaming, I’m scheming to be major
Composer like I’m Mozart, the sequel to Amadeus
Today is, the day I see the sun, ignoring all the rain
The fat lady has sung, actors’ highest claims
Paper by the forest tree, acres of the THC
I don’t smoke with homies though, find a cloud then have a seat
Wonder how Meyer Lansky live to see 80
I just wanna see Mercedes give me head in Mercedes
‘Knahmean?

And guess what?
I need all of mine’s—mo’ paper, mo’ dough
I need all of mine’s—more pussy, more hoes
I-I need all of mine’s—and yeah, publishing, can’t forget publishing
Nigga

Just ride, don’t ask where we going (ay)
Journey through the sky, cloud nine, no bowing (ay)
Baby take your time, I’ma keep it in control and
Give you what you need and give you what you want in life

I need all of mine’s
I need all of mine’s
I-I need all of mine’s
Just ride, don’t ask where we going
Journey through the sky, cloud nine, no bowing
Baby take your time, I’ma keep it in control
Give you what you need and give you what you want in life