"BBS" lyrics

This that gold BBS flow
Plastic Nike Air tags on your original 4s
Niggas done z'd on ya mans and I'm rollin a O
Leave 'em sleep, I don't need them suckers listening to me
Pack the bong full with everything except the kitchen sink
Underneath which I keep a set of Andis clippers
I can fix my lining up 'fore we go over by them bitches
A quick little something, can't get the back
I don't know where I left my hand mirror
Type of dilemmas I'll never hinder my jet living
We just chillin so don't come around here, fake-toughing
Running off the women, bossed up, all us
Outside the club waiting to tip drivers who pull our cars up
The fuck you thought this was, dawg
I'm a trill muthafucka after all
Haters is dressed as safety nets encouraging my fall
Won't catch me there but you can catch me on air, when my new shit premier
At whatever media outlet decides to play it fair
Fuck playing dead, pimpin', I'mma play the bear
Grizzly, seriously, Fishburne turn, flip styles furiously
This that 70s' Soul Green, Al chemistry
Ay mane, been a G since Buddy Lees
Lames be cuffin they jeans, and they bitches
I be cooking these bird ass hoes, running circles round em
They rotisserie chickens, love gotta shovel in her hand
I see you diggin, strike gold, build yo own coffin with it; dead ass
Flick ashes on the girls in my past tense
The telly's for the ones I was just fucking
The crib's for the one I was gon' get right back with
Its easy to get tangled in the stars; spangled
Mangled in the night life, living out my bars; dangerous
Yeah