Rio Da Yung OG & Louie Ray
Can’t Smoke
[Intro: Louie Ray]
Can't smoke in the club? Got a pound in here (It's a Wayne beat)
Better not say we can't smoke in this bitch, got a pound in here
I'm probably finna go fuck after this anyway
Damn
N***a, what's that sound in here? (What's that?)
Better not say we can't smoke, we got a, alright (Pound in here)
Alright, what's that sound in here? (We got a pound in here, yeah, alright)

[Verse 1: Louie Ray & Rio Da Yung OG]
N***a, ayy, what's that sound in here?
They better not say we can't smoke, I got a pound in here
Let a n***a swing on me, I'll drop a hundred rounds in here
I put my city on, I done made a couple thousand there
Mad as hell Ri' just lit another Black & Mild in here
Still hit her raw even though I had a condom near
Turn the blinker on, it's a hundred fuckin' pounds in here
High off Percs, sweatin' like a bitch, bro, throw another towel in here
Ah, I'm turnt up, I could growl in here
Man, what the fuck? It's too loud in here
Brought my n***as to my bitch crib, had a crowd in there
I never gave a fuck 'bout what they on and I ain't tryna care
Slide through my hood on weekdays and I'm probably there
Every time we do a track with somebody, it ain't soundin' fair (Never)
Bro, hide the K under the couch, my mama here
You talkin' 'bout the Gucci store, I just spent twenty-two thousand there
Shut the fuck up 'fore I shoot, dial in there
[Verse 2: Louie Ray]
You was livin' in the same spot for years and they found you there
Boy, you should've been moved out when the coast was clear
I don't wanna see no more obituaries on my dashboard
I don't wanna see no more obituaries on my dashboard
Fuck, I done seen too many faces on the dashboard
Push the Scat' to the limit like I'm tryna chase the dashboard
If my jeans could fit higher, knot 'em up, they'd be past sore
Jeans could fit higher, knot 'em up, they'd be past sore
Don't ask me to pass my weed, n***a, better pass yours
Talkin' 'bout these hoes don't know me, you better ask yours
Not a regular rapper, my n***a, better fast, okay
I'm not a regular rapper, my n***a, better fast forward
I had to travel for this shit, you better ask Dora
I just got another eight, I'm finna half pour it
Your crib got broke in, that was bad storage
Meet me out, right here at the door, you know we important

[Verse 3: Rio Da Yung OG]
Eleven, twelve hundred for a pop when we drinkin' Morton
Okay, I'm finna have a good day, I got sleep this morning
I been gettin' fat off the drank like I'm eatin' Morton
Get it? Like I'm eatin' Morton
If I ain't pour the drank up— I know, yeah
If I ain't pour the drank up right now, I know E'll pour it
Yeah, I hit your bitch, I'm always in Savannah, but I don't be in Georgia
Man, what the fuck? You went to sleep? Damn, E, record me
Pussy had a scent so I put her out the room and let her keep the forty
A n***a ain't gon' take shit, bitch, I keep the 40
Codewords when I look for Wock', call Kiki for me
Two heavy in the rap game, can't shit weak support me
Street n***as like Lil D and Lil E support me
When I touch down in the Mil', ManMan got heat for me
I can tell you ain't never dropped a body, you got a weak stomach
My bitch so real, she asked could she take the lil' plea for me?
Before I ever signed a record deal, I made three hundred
That ain't toothpaste on your bitch mouth, bro, it's skeet on it
Even though I pulled up by myself, I'm tryna leave somethin'
[Outro: Rio Da Yung OG]
Man, I'll leave a n***a
Alright, we ain't gon' talk about it, ah
Shit
Ghetto Boyz shit
We still grindin'