[Production by The Alchemist]

[Verse 1]
Used to have to pitch
Now I print cash with the BiC
The pad is a blank check
Embrace death, taste flesh
While the rhyme on the page is still wet
Far from fictitious
The cars attract the bitches, I hear the whispers
My palms got the blisters, uh
By the 4-5, you’re moisturized
The oysters are fried
Pull fives out the toy box
Be as lonely at the top
The watchband is croc, the palace is a Camelot
Don’t ride the camel when it’s hot
They channeling Pac, my chairmen scrambling rock
While I dance to the Spanish guitar
Spit the chorus to stimulate the whore’s clitoris
It tastes like porridge
I felt rewarded, from the man, I ran from the warrant
The high-top Ewings is blue and orange
Flash Gordon

[Chorus]
We still getting it
Piping dimes on the terrace
I’m thinking about my life where it’s headin'
I sleep with heat under the pillow
The cash is where I left it, it’s nothing
I watch the city while I’m fucking, I’m such a glutton
Gucci bucket with the Chukkas, motherfuckers
[Verse 2]
As the dove flew out the glove of the magician
It was just as I predicted, reality is pre-scripted
Trees twisted, autistic
Gorgeous hitmen, escort the vixen
Porsches, imported liquids
To buy a snake is an acquired taste
We play for higher stakes
Wine and dine by the fireplace
Romantic, strawberries on the coke
My chariot approach, I vanished
Parlaying with the players, switch layers
Mr. Rogers, galoshes, foxes that dance topless
I hit the spot that’s erogenous, erotic
Brolic hips, hippopotamus, chocolate bitch
The clock is a Swiss, the chronic is lit
Gin and tonic, the mix, the Benz is a 6
Inside the Matrix, I’m the glitch
.357 with the rubber grip
So when the beef pop, the shit don’t slip

[Chorus]
We still getting it
Piping dimes on the terrace
I’m thinking about my life where it’s headin'
I sleep with heat under the pillow
The cash is where I left it, it’s nothing
I watch the city while I’m fucking, I’m such a glutton
Gucci bucket with the Chukkas, motherfuckers