[Intro]
(I can't think, I'm coming up with [?]
Alright, joke's over, guys
Leeroy Jenkins
[?])
5 AM
5 fucking AM
5 A, ayy

[Verse]
You gon' find me up and at 'em packin' bowls
Rollin' up dope blowin' O's writin' rap flows
Saturday relaxing in the studio, letting go
Still, I'm on my toes 'cause you never know
Who plannin' to snake you out from un' your nose
Take a flow, it's okay, I'm quick with those
Take some more, it's not important, three or four
That never wanted children (Yeah)
Still I gotta feed them (Yeah)
Trippie Redd said it the best, my seeds are all some clout demons
Take weed in, every time I'm breathing
Seem stuffed up with a little OG
Creased kicks with a ruffed-up fleece G's repost
Jet had to pay for the heat
Fuck a 'preme piece
Old school beats banging from the CDs
Cardioid mouth piece gleamin' the stage like
While I spit my speech in the fleets of the six side demons
Clean like Listerine with the flow
Write it, let it go, like a dog I love
But couldn't take of anymore, Fido
Finna pack and hit the rows so am I though
To the West side, sky high, flyin' first-class ride
I got Whiskey sour powers 'cause I drank about five
Rollin' Cubans for the flight, might have to bring it down
If the pilot get a contact high (Yeah)
Blowing super cookies, I got quite the appetite
Passing it to Swaine, he restrain from the strains of the Mary Jane
Waves of creation
Bound to hit his brain when the DJ spinnin' discs like a PlayStation
Venue look vacant
Earth could be ending, it's the same situation every single time
Write and speak the rhymes till we die
NV steady bringing dope lines
To the table like the Coke guy (Woah)
Just pack the spliff and we could rip it all night, yeah