Barbecues

[Intro]

Aye Fya Man in the house
Aye CG in the house
Aye Hits Only in the house
Lame niggas get out now
Aye Private Plane in the house
Aye Johnny Boy in the house
Aye Hits Only in the house
Lame niggas

[Verse]

If you look up in the sky you will probably see me
Young legend on the rise reppin Hits Only
We got burgers and fries my team gon eat
Hits Only til I die, man thats how its gon be
I been around the world but I love my crib
Here's bran-brand new flavor in your ear
Real niggas show me love
Lame niggas show fear
I be rocking all kind of strange colors all year
Fya Man he blow back he so wack
Looking ass picture perfect like kodak
Like we weave the woman he on track
Blow rings in the summer that’s a known fact
Yeah I’m in a dollar bill tub cut the faucet off
But the money still flood any way
Nigga roll up the bud
Hold the smoke in like a grudge
Fya

[Chorus]

It's been a long time but now they bought to see (bought to see)
What goes on at Hits Only
We rolling up them L’s we blowing up that smoke (smoke)
And you can tell what I represent the most

[Verse 2]

Aye aye floor so big gotta use a push broom
On tour selling tickets tryna buy the damn moon
Walk around with your [?] on the sides on the pool
Fya Man is the name Private Plane is the crew
You wanna talk to money? I’m fine how are you?
I’m an animal nigga I did time at the zoo
People say I dress white but my eyes not blue
My eyes stay red fresh Nikes do too
Fya Man he spazzed up he guaped up
Keep a lot of cold bars he locked up
I was at the crib she popped up
And went down on a nigga like not up
You niggas probably didn’t catch that
Like you wore a rubber mother fucker I am just that
Nigga that be walking around flyer than a jetpack
Respect that
Fya

[Chorus]

It's been a long time but now they bought to see (Bought to see)
What goes on at Hits Only
We rolling up them L’s we blowing up that smoke (Smoke)
And you can tell what I represent the most

[Outro]

Aye aye Why Are Your Eyes So Red
That's the name of the mixtape that y'all banging right now
Dawson you got me sounding like a million grammys
This mother fucking sample sound like palm trees
Perfect shit to smoke man ya know
Play at your lil barbecue ya know
Dance with grandma and them aye
Hits Only man
Private Plane shit
Don’t let nobody tell you nothing that you can’t do shorty