Mojito Music - Larry June, Berner, Curren$y

I hit my niggas spitter like it’s time to make classes

If I cop that SS, then I’ma keep that bitch classy

As the money get bigger then the ships get faster

I’ma water all my plants and watch my 80 inch plasma

Built the studio in the bay just to record my shit

I might mat the six orange and leave it parked in the city

Big mojitos on the island, I had to dip real quick

I ain’t tryna have a kid but you can my hahaha

Excuses never got me shit, bitch, I’m a grown ass man

You know I went to angel city and dropped like 30 on this

I get my watches out the bus like my Nikes and shit

I’m spittin' facts on these tracks and steady mackin' a bitch

What’s happenin'?

How you doing, baby, you look like something I can fuck with

I love it when you wear your hair like that, let’s have lunch, bitch

I been crushin' for a minute so I just had to get ya

So I’ma slide in your DM like «What's happenin' with ya?»

I was stoned and uninterested

She tellin' her life story

I’m thumbin' through my phones pretendin' to be listenin'

My radar went off though, when this ho mentioned the dividends

And contributin' heavy

Only the gang membership in this family I’m buildin' here

I flew her with me to the bay to meet my homie, Larry J

We stay for a couple days

She was bait and brung me back a couple strays

Say they tryna get with it, well, put this in my lyrics

If this shit was fictitious, you can’t get her to wash the dishes

I had to fuck on this stripper, that’s cold for sure

But that also how I go, respect the laws, dawg, baby chose

Runnin' her fingers cross the ceiling of my Rolls, touchin' the stars

This the yellow brick road, bitch, go and get ours in the boo

They untrue, over bass, drums snares and flutes

Floatin' in one spot like a yacht at the dock

Till the money call out and put the spoon to the pot

Time to count up

Mama, show me how much you love you got

Exitin' the stash house, fishtailin', driftin' in somethin' expensive

On another mission, dollar sign vision, champagne sippin'

Jamaican rum with some fresh mint from our garden

I hit the forty lighter with some cookie fan pollen

Why your baby mama callin'?

She keep callin', yeah she know what I like

And it’s flights out to Boston, yeah

Dirty babe water in that fog for the bosses

While we choppin' up game, we ain’t takin' no losses

I got C’s around my neck, ain’t no Jesus piece or crosses

And this weed in my bag are all brand new crosses

In my driveway, I got four or five different options

Dirty strippers in my ear tryna fuck without no condoms

Big mojito shit, burn, bury cash in different countries

Fell in love with drug money, bitches pay just to suck me

Used to slap eleven five and keep Vegas in rotation

Now we spend a mil in Ibiza just for motivation

Eight days of vacation, I’m on chug chillout

Break the kush down, pull another pill out