Biscayne Bay

Yea… Life
Type shit…
You need to have a driver for this
Type shit you ride home too
Niggas too talkative
Chatty Cathy ass simps, I’m on this bossin' shit
My homie just came home, he got a corner office in this
Empire, I constructed brick by brick, this rap hustling
Tennis shoes, t-shirts, lunchboxes, fuck it
If it could be sold then lets do it, if it could be sold we gon' move it
I got the driveway to prove it, crazy high, but I’m not stupid
Blood hound know where the loot is, bring my homies straight to it
My bitches gettin' high to the music
My gangsta bros before me show me exactly how to do it
You only gon' get out it, whatever you put into it
So I go extra to make sure my shit come with the leather
The sunroof, the carbon fiber, Alcantara whatever
Navigation, blue tooth, all kind of shit I never use
Sittin' in that Skyline, the style of a stockbroker
Storytellin' weed slanging pot smoker
Revolutionary, rollin Chevy till I fall over
Told em, bury me a G and let my momma have the cheese
Though I’ll never die cause the music livin' in the streets
That’s all that matter to me
Cause this other shit ain’t real, them hoes just fuckin' because of that deal
These niggas livin' life with you until they just get jealous and you get killed
I’m just ridin', smokin', prayin'
That the lord keep them away, and we keep gettin' this money
Cause we legends in the makin', I’m sayin'
…life