For Seasons lyrics

by

Fiend


[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Higher than ever, gray leather
Head rest, 2 letters, double S's
I love them Chevys to death
These n*ggas fakin' they ready, forgettin' they lines on set
Don't know how to play they role, they more inclined to play themselves
I just live amongst them trees
Bakin' goodies, keebler elves
Smokin' with them b*tches got em' focused in the kitchen
Pots whippin I'm chillin'
My and my n*gga' grub like kings and then we dippin'
Interstate, lane changer, Rover Rangin' 96
Lighters flickin' like them blinkers
A motivated stoner mind blown but I be thinking
Matchin' Benzes in ten days kid, live to talk about it like Ace did

[Hook x2]
We just worryin' bout the money them b*tches gon' come
We just worryin' bout the money them b*tches gon' come
We just worryin' bout the money them b*tches gon' come
n*gga pay that up front like the Ferrari trunk

[Verse 2: King Chip]
Yeah my n*gga we in this b*tch
Smokin' strong that's the long
Got some sh*t that get you gone
YSL, Dior Homme
I'mma do this whole verse without no punch lines
King Chip really livin' f*ck the one time
Spitta hit me up when I was in Vegas, like you need some weed?
I say hell yeah must have read my mind, where it be
Twelve thousand dollar outfit in that Tech G
I don't owe nobody sh*t, King Chip debt free
Matter fact, couple Cleveland killers owe me
I can tell 'em keep it, have 'em run up on you no P
Locked inside my head, hella weed, hella dead cops
Me and Spitta smoke too much to not have dread locks
Stalking haters on my Twitter, sniping 'em with headshots
b*tch ass eighth grader, f*cking hater dead now
Damn that n*gga Chip is crazy, maybe it's the weed, Spitta
E'rybody know that ain't nobody cold as these n*ggas
[Hook x2]
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