Cancun ’08 lyrics

[Intro: Murs]
Uh
It is kinda fun
n*gga, you made a funky lil' beat with your b*tch ass, woohoo
Alright, here we go

[Verse 1: Murs]
She said she was bottle, God
Plus she looked like a model, God
Champagne room, told 'em put it on my card
I was off a couple of them bottles, I was goin' hard
She movin' like we on the dance floor
The DJ was playing that Camp Lo
This is it, this is it, this is it, what?
Throwin' luchini all on the big bud
I'm in here with my sh*t tucked
Only n*gga with a baby nine in the strip club
Maybe not, but I still don't give a f*ck
We in here deep, these n*ggas won't trip with us
I said we just don't give a f*ck
My n*gga in this b*tch sippin' lean out a sippy cup
You do what you want when the price right
Money make these women feel safe like a night light
Exactly how it should be
Quit acting like you ain't never had no pus*y
You wanna f*ck? Go home to your wife
n*gga, don't f*ck around and ruin my night
The afterparty, that's a motherf*cker
Broad had body like a motherf*cker
Everybody in they zone
If you ain't f*cking or sucking di*k, take your ass home
Grown folk doin' grown sh*t
Wilding out on some loced out Tone sh*t
He was a Stone Crip, really from the hood
But when he went pop, they got him misunderstood
[Verse 2: Pookie Blow]
Look, seein' nine-five n*ggas hit the hoods with they chain tucked
We gon' bring it back, donkey punches to these b*tches' back
f*ck that, I'm off that, might toot the whole thing
Now pretty b*tches got pistols in they tote bags
Four-four mag'll make a f*ckboy fall back
Slidin' with the homies, tall cat in a paper bag
Where you from? Where you used to sag? Where they know you at?
Talk a lot of sh*t so I roam with one
Daddy better chill before his mama loses a son
I know a gang of n*ggas but I don't f*ck with none
'Cause I'm a dog ass b*tch, I be burying bones
They been searching six months, still ain't found your bones
Cancún and margaritas were the getaway
I plead the Fifth, I don't know sh*t, man, I was on the getaway
The boys in blue blurpin', put that sh*t away, sh*t away

[Verse 3: $ilkMoney]
What gives a diamond more value than crack when both rocks?
The difference between guns and butter when both stocks?
How you put an end to the block when none of these roads stop?
Or how it feel to be on your last paid call when the phone drop?
Something fishy 'bout these n*ggas, they must be pescatarian
The pound shh when it spit, so I named it librarian
What type of bag would you like to be carried in
You f*ckin' with teak or the mahogany for your casket we buryin'?
Lines between love and hate are apparently very thin
But we cross over back and forth 'cause that's the game that we playin' in
Pictures steal souls so be careful of whose camera you starin' in
When you find your dreams, hold onto its scenes, so that you cherish it, n*gga
For you, I paint the bigger picture, but your vision tainted
By how we make our own paper like we crocheting
I'm not a gangster, just an intelligent street scholar
Far from mundane with my slang, but a n*gga still speak proper, preach knowledge
Time is money and we eatin' it quick
Although it's funny how we waste both when neither exist
Send the kids back to school like the sleep didn't stick
Then break the lock off they door as if my key didn't fit
Listen, baby, I'm just reading the script, I'm tryna leave with a b*tch
Squeezing her hips after leaving my tip
I hope these n*ggas don't creep on the kid on the way to the whip
Or I'm leaving fifty percent of the clip