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Mojito Music Lyrics - Artist : Larry June
I hit my niggas spitter like it's time to make classes
If I cop that SS, then I'ma keep that bitch classy As the money get bigger then the ships get faster I'ma water all my plants and watch my 80 inch plasma Built the studio in the bay just to record my shit I might mat the six orange and leave it parked in the city Big mojitos on the island, I had to dip real quick I ain't tryna have a kid but you can my hahaha Excuses never got me shit, bitch, I'm a grown ass man You know I went to angel city and dropped like 30 on this I get my watches out the bus like my Nikes and shit I'm spittin' facts on these tracks and steady mackin' a bitch What's happenin'? How you doing, baby, you look like something I can fuck with I love it when you wear your hair like that, let's have lunch, bitch I been crushin' for a minute so I just had to get ya So I'ma slide in your DM like "What's happenin' with ya?" I was stoned and uninterested She tellin' her life story I'm thumbin' through my phones pretendin' to be listenin' My radar went off though, when this ho mentioned the dividends And contributin' heavy Only the gang membership in this family I'm buildin' here I flew her with me to the bay to meet my homie, Larry J We stay for a couple days She was bait and brung me back a couple strays Say they tryna get with it, well, put this in my lyrics If this shit was fictitious, you can't get her to wash the dishes I had to fuck on this stripper, that's cold for sure But that also how I go, respect the laws, dawg, baby chose Runnin' her fingers cross the ceiling of my Rolls, touchin' the stars This the yellow brick road, bitch, go and get ours in the boo They untrue, over bass, drums snares and flutes Floatin' in one spot like a yacht at the dock Till the money call out and put the spoon to the pot Time to count up Mama, show me how much you love you got Exitin' the stash house, fishtailin', driftin' in somethin' expensive On another mission, dollar sign vision, champagne sippin' Jamaican rum with some fresh mint from our garden I hit the forty lighter with some cookie fan pollen Why your baby mama callin'? She keep callin', yeah she know what I like And it's flights out to Boston, yeah Dirty babe water in that fog for the bosses While we choppin' up game, we ain't takin' no losses I got C's around my neck, ain't no Jesus piece or crosses And this weed in my bag are all brand new crosses In my driveway, I got four or five different options Dirty strippers in my ear tryna fuck without no condoms Big mojito shit, burn, bury cash in different countries Fell in love with drug money, bitches pay just to suck me Used to slap eleven five and keep Vegas in rotation Now we spend a mil in Ibiza just for motivation Eight days of vacation, I'm on chug chillout Break the kush down, pull another pill out |
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