Irie - Ty Dolla $ign, Wiz Khalifa

I wake up and roll some dank up with my niggas

I got on the phone and caught up with some bitches

I got dressed, I mixed the Tisa with Versace

I smoked a joint and took a b-ar, now I’m irie

I’m irie, I’m irie, I’m irie

I’m irie, yeah, I’m irie

I’m irie

I’m irie, I’m irie

I’m irie, I’m irie

I’m irie, I’m irie

When I’m in Brooklyn I send runners to bodegas

Don’t bring no dutchie back homie, I prefer papers, I prefer papers

And I got love for the Nets but it’s still Lakers

I turn my music up, fuck my neighbors

I hit JFK, I’m going back to Cali

I got some OG Kush from San Fernando Valley

My nigga Beezy on the way from Humboldt County

We keep some organic weed, damn it, we from grass valley

I got a bad bitch riding shotgun with the shotgun

Pocket full of money and some condoms

I’mma drop your bitch back off when I’m done

Hope you make your bitch get in the shower

That’s your bitch, she my bitch, too

She let the homie hit too

Niggas be cuffin' while their bitches be fuckin'

My nigga, that ain’t nothing new

I’m the nigga that your bitch come to

When she wanna cheat on you

I’d probably be tripping, too, but I got more bitches than you

I wake up and roll some dank up with my niggas

I got on the phone and caught up with some bitches

I got dressed, I mixed the Tisa with Versace

I smoked a joint and took a b-ar, now I’m irie

I’m irie, I’m irie, I’m irie

I’m irie, yeah, I’m irie

I’m irie

I’m irie, I’m irie

I’m irie, I’m irie

I’m irie, I’m irie

It’s Taylor Gang, I get so high that it’s irrational

When I pull up in first class, it’s international

I know some ratchet bitches and they rep the North side

We ain’t smoking on that pack unless it’s certified

Blowing by the zone, nigga, worth the grown

Smoking on that strong, give me dome while I’m on the phone

Take you to my home where we zip it up and pack it

Roll them joints up big as fuck, they tell me slow my roll

This young boy gonna live it up

Pass the loud, you’d think that I smoke flavors

No bitches in the hood that don’t smoke papers

Ain’t tryina hear 'bout what you need because I got it

It’s on the plane cause I can’t leave the crib without it

Claim you smoke more weed than me, I really doubt it

If she wake up and roll a joint that mean she 'bout it

And rest in peace, go to my nigga Ray

Now we call it KK and we smoke it all day

Straight to the face, fuck what the police say

I wake up and roll some dank up with my niggas

I got on the phone and caught up with some bitches

I got dressed, I mixed the Tisa with Versace

I smoked a joint and took a b-ar, now I’m irie

I’m irie, I’m irie, I’m irie

I’m irie, yeah, I’m irie

I’m irie

I’m irie, I’m irie

I’m irie, I’m irie

I’m irie, I’m irie