Huh-uh
This my favorite part nigga
Huh-uh, yeah
LordPhazer in this bitch
Uh-huh, oh, yeah
Ya dig? Yeah
Purps on the beat
Here I go, here I go again (Here I go, here I go)
In Los Angeles just came back from Japan (In Los Angeles just came back from Japan)
Here I go, here I go again traveling (Here I go, here I go again traveling)
Here I go, here I go again
I’m in Los Angeles I just came back from Japan (Uh-huh)
I was on Percocets everyday, wasn’t fucking with them Xans (Uh-huh)
Here I go, here I go again (Yeah)
Here I go, here I go again (Uh-huh)
I’m in Los Angeles I just came back from Japan (Yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Everyday I was on Percocets, wasn’t fucking with them Xans (Uh)
Turned studio to a trap house, like I was whipping with the pans
I spent 3,000 on some pants
She a horny dog, she just fucked me and my mans (She a horny dog)
Yeah, the groupie ain’t a fan (Yeah)
Still ain’t trust her so I fucked her with an uzi in my hand
Whoa, rocking that Rick, dawg
Feel like a beat, dawg, I got drip sauce
Pocket watching got you pissed off (Got you pissed off)
Just wait until you start staring at my wrist, dawg, ah (Gleam gleam gleam)
That mean I get super official (Uh-huh)
I’m a sad boy when it come to heartbreak, it’s in my lyrics (Uh-huh)
I know that I got millions (Uh-huh), I know that I got a mansion (Uh-huh)
On top of mansion that’s a big building (Uh-huh)
Parking lot wheelies, I put the milli’ in million
Wrist so cold like the AC on (Uh-huh)
All I care ’bout is hunnids, not tittys, twentys, like a [?] (Uh-huh)
Whatchu know about money, uh
I got my throwback Gucci on (Yeah)
Finna get in that oochie coochie
Fuck a hoochie to this song (Yeah)
Bootleg movies in my house, can’t go to the movies, dawg (Uh-uh)
I’m too important, ask me if I have competition I say “Nah” (Uh-uh)
They disappointed, I’m taking these pills can’t feel my jaw (Uh-uh)
I think I need a doctors appointment, they tell me that nothing wrong (Uh-huh)
I still think that nigga wrong
Here I go, here I go again
I’m in Los Angeles I just came back from Japan
Everyday I was on Percocets, wasn’t fucking with them Xans
Turned studio to a trap house, like I was whipping with the pans (Uh)
I spent 3,000 on some pants (3,000 on pants)
She a horny dog, she just fucked me and my mans (She just fucked me and my mans)
Yeah, the groupie ain’t a fan (She a fan)
Still ain’t trust her so I fucked her with an uzi in my hand
I see them haters watching me on the internet (On the web)
Like “Here he go talkin’ bout his new watch again” (Gleam gleam)
That’s a two tone skeleton AP on his head
We get it, yeah I know you get it (Huh)
But you couldn’t afford it if you worked for your life nigga
That’s your forever girl? I just may go rent her (Smash)
And drive that bitch around like a Mercedes Sprinter (Skrt, skrt)
So much money they think I got a money printer (Yeah)
So much drama sometimes I think I’m on Jerry Springer (What the fuck?)
I know some of these racist motherfuckers hate to pay up
Like “Why the hell did we just have to book this dirty nigga” (Ha-ha)
Times change (Yeah), but I still got that mask on my face like I’m in the KKK (Let’s go)
Bought a brand new guitar and a piano and a new AK (Let’s go)
Yeah, just in case, a fuck nigga get in my way (Uh-huh)
Two-three-three shots to a nigga in his face
Take two off his top like he gettin’ a fade
Send ’em rock bott’ niggas around your way
Bought a new watch, cost over 100k (Gleam)
So bright can’t see the time today (Damn)
Yeah, but it’s my time today (It is), I’m gon’ shine today
That’s today, tomorrow, ayy, that mean I’m in my prime (Okay)
Here I go, here I go again
I’m in Los Angeles I just came back from Japan (Just came back from Japan)
I was on Percocets everyday, wasn’t fucking with them Xans (I wasn’t fucking with them Xans)
Here I go, here I go again
Here I go, here I go again
I’m in Los Angeles I just came back from Japan
Everyday I was on Percocets, wasn’t fucking with them Xans
Turned studio to a trap house, like I was whipping with the pans
I spent 3,000 on some pants
She a horny dog, she just fucked me and my mans (Me and my fucking mans)
Yeah, the groupie ain’t a fan (Groupie ain’t a fan)
Still ain’t trust her so I fucked her with an uzi in my hand (In my motherfucking hand)
Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah
Triple nine the gang, yeah-yeah-yeah
When it come to this music shit I’ma poet, yeah-yeah-yeah
Billy Idol with that “Rebel Yell”
Fuck with me I send you straight to hell
Free my slime, hope he make bail
Keep him locked up if he tattle-tale