hook:
split the dutch, cut the trees up/
we dont give a fuck,
(we gun party till someone dies up in here)
stashbox look liek winter wheever i re eup
empty ya guts liek a honey dutch/
(we gun party till someone dies up in here)
niggas outside the crib, clipped up and strapped/
smokin blunts, drinkin liquer, gettin pissy, wavin ghats/
im from the hood dawgy, murder is jus what you gotta do/
so i bag up my coke, and load that ol' 22/
i been grindin like pharrel and clipse in this piece/
pussy wanna get loud at a party, start tippin my piece/
im the life of the party, if i get killed, we all shut down/
but the partys done petected by teflon when he bucks round/
this is rock to the money sign, kill you with a similie/
get shot with a metaphor, i be onb a killin spree/
i smoke more piff, the cheech and chong did in the 70's/
they aint even send 1 cop after em, instead they send 7 d's/
so much snow, dont get it twisted, its stil lspring/
i dont trip on if i hurt a nigga, i jus straight up kill things/
i rock a party, im the nigga sippin purple gettin rowdy/
and im buildin on my stick of haze, so get the fuck from round me/
(hook)
i aint playin ima party, sip all the bacardi/
then that shti got me flippin like jeff and matt hardy/ (aha)
i break bitches faces open, leak they blood in the gutter/
pardon me, it aint me it my guns that stutter/
i melt anigga like a stove done does to butter/
then turn aroudn shoot the hood up, and fidn his mother/
im up, block party in the hood, high as hellll/
i flip a brick, then lay low money thats fa realll/
when that ak come out, it start spittin like llamas/
im the playbill, when it come to the drama/
i can tell you, erything you need to know, botu this beef shit/
thats why silva back, come up short talki nthat weak ish/
im the general, got more blocks then leg-os/
i take that big ass hat off ya head and replace it wit a halo/
hook
yeah.. rock to the money sign 05 son fuck with that smk bang em in the jects
BLAT!
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