​boondocks

[Intro]
You wanna argue
I can't argue with you, no
I'm happy, leave me alone
You mad
Look at you, you mad
You big mad
I don't get paid to argue with you, no
Who is you?
You ain't nobody
Oh on and on and on and on
Oh on and on and on and on
Oh on and on and on and on
Oh on and on and on and on
On and on and on and on
My cypher keeps moving like a rolling stone
Oh on and on and on and on
My cypher keeps moving like a rolling stone
Oh on and on and on and on
My cypher keeps moving like a rolling stone
Oh on and on and on and on
My cypher keeps moving like a rolling stone
Oh

[Verse 1: Cavasoul]
Yeah, I got fancy Moscato, I drink it 'til I topple
The clip is getting spilt, it's filled with tips, they always hollow
(What a day, what a day, I—)
Get money, smoke weed, that's the motherfuckin' motto
I stay flippin' the bird but ain't no wings come with that swallow
Anywhere I go I swear it's like the guala follow
And then when I'm in the mood I get my rage on like I'm Rondo
Now I follow up, we causing ruckus
Ducking heat and loving fucking
Fucking loving bumping Faces
Run it 'til I kick the bucket
Bustin' bud to comatose
It's in a lovely nugget
Upping every dose I'm getting close to giving up a lung and
I'm just out for paper, gimme one toke
Multiply by five and now I'm choking on the—
Wait, where'd it go?
Now I'm choking on the blunt smoke, blunt smoke yeah
Read the beat a scene or something seen within a dream
Know what that means but every meaning in a sea of unforeseen
I been the meanest I know how to be, I seen it come for me
But what I eat is less than weed, now I surround myself with green

[Verse 2: Giovanni]
I got bars like your cellphone do at full service
My ex hit me back but I baseball curved it
(What a day, what a day, I—)
You can't do it mofucka you just gotta learn it
I'll tell you 'bout a story how a mofucka earned it
Set up my plays, uh
Got hits for days, uh
Now I sit back and watch the cellphone rang
I write a message, uh
Buried deep and set in stone
If you've got a problem you can go talk to my manager
Don't confuse me with the other bros who get fucked on edibles
And get passed on little shows
Who don't have a single hope
My potential unlimited
You need fuckin' discipline
Daddy can no longer wipe your ass, you not a little kid
Dim-witted idiots, it's nice to know you're interested
But next time that you hit me up I'll hit 'em up like 2Pac did
My music is distributed so that people can listen in
Compliments elicited by fans among the masses and
Man I'm feeling grateful
Yeah I'm feeling grateful
Don't ever speak again unless a mofucka say so
Gio