Fascinating Grass - Big Tone, Roc Marciano, 87

Inhale an L of elevation vegetation

Out the one-hitter and exhale a spell of medication

Get the case in the front gate for drunk dates

And cheap scents synonymous with D-list celebrations

The smell of cocktails be hella' abrasive

Still I never felt the belch my name is Stella Factious

The flyest accommodations of hotel arrangements

Still bleaching the scent of reefer out they elevators

I’m in the hooka lounge, lounging with the hooka, hacking through the clouds

Poolside taco meat scatter with my belly hanging

Celly ringing, voicemail be banging off the chain

Never check 'em though, it’s probably better if your text contain it

So many lost hotel keys the front desk complaining

I’m in the complementary robe, stanky legging

With my necklace hanging, chest neck

Carti framing like a westside seven native

And this is either Sour Diesel or I’m levitating

The Hermes really burn em' sunny no more speculation

Wasting, Crown Nation, the explanation

When your favorite rappers acting like next debatin Satan

Peel back this blunt rap and use the straw that maintain it to sip

The something strong with something carbonated

Outfits like a prom occasion

Bishop Don slash Russell Simmons sneakers with the blazer blazin

Smoked out flicks got an albino filter fans thinking we Vybz Kartel and

Federline co-gellin

All city, in all cities

Hadouken some broads suplex is all you gets

Brain-dead, geeked out, stupid, stupid fresh I’m funky

In a sang hubris

Who the fuck you frauds pluggin you a funk thuggin'

Get the steppin like Tommy and Cole buggin'

That’s what I call a cold dozen

Flip on the gas and open up that closed oven

Turn on that trash we likely to throw somethin'

Pay us in cash and act like you know somethin'

Smokin' on (fascinating grass)

Feelin' like I’m smokin' on some

Feelin' like I’m lifted off that

Feelin' like I’m burnin' down some

Get lifted off

Moët Chandon the don of dons

Thousand dollar Mont Blanc when I write songs

Buy nice cars

Life was hard

I wasn’t dealt nice cards

My scars require more than Tiger Balm (ow)

A new blue Mercedes can maybe cure your diabetes

A bag dime pieces in Prada beanies

And Buscemis who you think you Houdini?

I’m here in the flesh, still wonder who can see me

Still a show, steal your ho don’t think I won’t?

Send her home smellin' like hotel soap

You tellin' jokes round grown folk

Your raps like Adobo bro daddy I’m not your average Joe Blow

Sling blow for cheese Veuve Clicquot

I’m covered in gold I feel like C-3PO

Covered in gold I feel like C-3PO

What you talking you playboy

Ain’t shit sweet though

Outside of murdering beats, I know a few cutthroats

Strawberry D Smoke, that’s all she want

I told her shut the fuck up, and suck a nigga dick or somethin'

We’re top notch, overlord of the weed spot

With his moon roof open blowin' pot

Wallaby Clarks

96 style, frontin' in the B-Boy stance like I was Run or somethin' (run)

The mic killer, the money getter

Nigga roll somethin'

It’s the return of the Deacon speakin' what the fuck they want (preach)

Bitch

You ain’t got nothin' on the rich

Every four bars a nigga whole style switch

Polo sports basics, getting lifted, it’s wasted

Baby, tell your mans learn to bag first and then get money

A simple assignment you crash test dummies

This is complex rhymin' homie

Sour Diesel smoke, got the smell all on me

Great clouds in the whip, bad bitch all on me

You know the click spit slick Crown Nation homie

homie, till the days end

And the days end, hell blazin', it’s amazin', raise up

Smokin' off

Feelin' like I’m smokin' off some

Feelin' like I’m lifted off that

Feelin' like I’m burnin' down some

Get lifted off

Get lifted off

Get lifted off

Get lifted off

Wait, what the fuck am I supposed to say in this?

He told me — he said some

shit about like… being you is great, I wish I could be you more often, y’know?

Keep your eyes out