Stoli - Rehab

Wassup son

Wassup, what’s really good

Whats really good right now

Hahahahaa

I’m billin' at the club with a bottle and a bag

Fresh to death head to toe with that average Joe swag

Lookin' Walmart sheik with the exception of the sneakers

Got my own shit bumpin' through them Clarion speakers

Got burn one at the wheel with the pistol on tug

Got Demun an Crisis with me y’all don’t wanna press your luck

I got the windows down, hoody weather with a breeze

That’s four mother fuckers, eight pockets full of cheese

I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya

A fresh bag of fire from my supplier

And I think I just saw cloud 9

Hundred and ninety-nine fly by

La la la la la la

This shit cut to the bone

Criminals sing this song (Hey!)

What’s real can you not feel

The way we murder and kill

Open minds up and let guts spill

Never done on this level until

Now you might win a battle or a freestyle

But that’s t-ball and I’m on a million miles

You got a sling shot I got armor and a shield

And a lot of hundred-dollar bills

And a hot model cooking all of my meals

New York lawyer closin' my deals

Nothing on the table, every cent banked

Dipped head to toe and my shit don’t stank

Great white shark in a fish tank

Gennie in your wish list, what your bitch thank?

What your bitch thank?

I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya

A fresh bag of fire from my supplier

And I think I just saw cloud 9

Hundred and ninety-nine fly by

I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya

A fresh bag of fire from my supplier

And I think I just saw cloud 9

Hundred and ninety-nine fly by

La la la la la la

La la la la la la la la

Jimmy Ty, Daniel Ellsworth, Alexander Perkins

Got 'em all slurpin' the gherkin

Murkin' and twerkin' I’m lookin', it’s workin'

I’m arrogant, American, the liquor drinking derelict

They wonder where I get the nerve, nowhere in particular

Bitches say I’m immature then they want a signature

Boyfriend trippin', hematomas, ligatures

Your girl still got a pretty face but look at yours

I could take your hooker sure

I could also make a coffee table book of turds

I’m a 6-pack, and get back 12 to raise hell and a case

If you don’t get the fuck out my face…

I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya

A fresh bag of fire from my supplier

And I think I just saw cloud 9

Hundred and ninety-nine fly by

I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya

A fresh bag of fire from my supplier

And I think I just saw cloud 9

Hundred and ninety-nine fly by

La la la la la la

La la la la la la la la

We been poppin' collars

Like a bullet through the knot in a necktie

Headline act with a 10 o’clock set time

4 o’clock load in label on the phone

«Yo we need a record from you Danny»

Gotta meet the deadline

Another night writing for the sunlight bedtime

Purple circles, around my red eyes

Elevate the mind state

Try to relax with a bottle and a sack

And they call this big time

Chiefin' like a chief in a wigwam

Inhale deep this shit will make ya wig warm

Crysis Jones on the left

Ty, «what the hook gonna be?»

I was thinking something like the weed hook

Don’t mean, yeahhhh…

Maybe not

Take a shot of vodka

Pack another bowl up

Talk a little caca

(Talk a little caca)

Smoke until we cockeyed

(Smoke until we cockeyed)

Alright…

I’m billin' at the club with a bottle and a bag

Fresh to death head to toe with that average Joe swag

Lookin' Walmart sheik with the exception of the sneakers

Got my own shit bumpin' through them Clarion speakers

(Speakers, speakers, speakers, speakers…)

(Speakers, speakers, speakers, speakers…)

(Speakers, speakers, speakers, speakers…)