Cut Grass - XV

Super Duper Vizzy rollin' Uber through the City

The loser who be winnin', now he do the?

(aye)

Dude be gettin' bizzy, every tune is stupid witty

Got the crew, a slew of bitties

Now tell me who is with me, with me, with me

Hold up (hold up)

Got the shit to roll up (roll up)

Got it rigged to blow up (blow up)

Got the shit, I’m Joker

Yeah we roll it don’t you pass it up

Tell the haters, «Pack it up»

Tank on full, don’t gas me up

Sticks is gone, grass is cut

(Hold up)

Open doors steppin' off the ocean floor (drippin')

Commodore, how I ride the '64 (whippin')

Comin' for, anyone who want a war (trippin')

No carnivals, all my dogs is carnivores!

(yee!)

Crew like Wu-Tang, but we move just like the Tribe (yeah)

Tie like shoes strings you can’t see it in my eyes (yeah)

Got this boo thang, she just flew in on my side

She wanna do «doo-dah», but I cannot do the lines

Manager calls, on point like I handle the ball

Never I fall, slip and I stand up so tall

I really been plannin' it all

Been on islands that’s private;

kept the iPhone on private

I write the scripts they gon' buy it, then shoot the pilot like pirates (baow)

You-know, how-we, be

In-a, car,?

Two, tone, buttered, seats

That’s-a,?

(ha!)

Black excellence, trap elegance

Move weight like fat elephants

Feds hate it, ain’t have evidence

Now we make it off rap elements (ooh!)

I’m a chill nigga, don’t do clubs or chinchillas

Before DiNero, I’ll meet you fuckers

I’m Ben Stiller, no one been realer

I’m takin this shit hella far, takin' the lid off the jar

Niggas they bit every bar, cut all the?

You ridin'?

Then get in the car

Call me.

Super Duper Vizzy rollin' Uber through the City

The loser who be winnin', now he do the?

(aye)

Dude be gettin' bizzy, every tune is stupid witty

Got the crew, a slew of bitties

Now tell me who is with me, with me, with me

Hold up (hold up)

Got the shit to roll up (roll up)

Got it rigged to blow up (blow up)

Got the shit, I’m Joker

Yeah we roll it don’t you pass it up

Tell the haters «Pack it up»

Tank don’t full, don’t gas me up

Sticks is gone, grass is cut