Newport Music

[Production by LeKen Taylor]

[Intro]
Yeah
You have now tuned into the Lavender Love Section
Newports and bad bitches, cold drinks and chicken wings
Watermelon seeds and bitches with no weaves
Before I go in, let me roll up my sleeves
Yeah
Donald Love, baby

[Verse 1: Sha Hef]
True!
Back on the block, no crack in my sock, just dope and my God
And your bitch in my car, she back on my dick, she know who we are
So come float with a star, a consolation
I'm the shit, no constipation
Back to the crib for some consommation
Pluck her then Fuck her, no conversation
I'm just saying, ain't no debating my greatness, these niggas is basic
And I'm wasted, writing this rap and cap in the back of a spaceship
Just face it
Pour a little out for the ones that never made it
And shout out to the hoes that I fucked, but never dated
Even in HD, I look hella faded
Feeling hella jaded, OG got me feeling elevated
Got me all sedated, nigga wants to fight cause his bitch got me on her playlist
We ain't gotta say shit
We come back to the trap with the straps and my niggas just spray shit
Got 50 Xan's in that party pack
Feeling like I had a heart attack
I got 50 bitches wanting autographs
I got 50 blunts, I'm smoking all of that
That's all I know: good weed, sex, money, and hoes
Hit the booth and I spit plenty of flows
Check my rap sheet, I flip plenty of O's
Oh!

[Hook: Retch] (x2)
I'm what you get when you mix coca and a triple beam
If it ain't the Feds, I'm falling victim to this nicotine
Selling drugs, doing drugs
Busting sexies in the club
Like motherfuck this rap shit
I grew up in that trap, bitch

[Verse 2: Da$h]
Deep inhales, drunk texting a couple hoes
Replies come by the time I exhale, saying it's a go
Shit, fa sho, after I drop these flows, I'll probably call you
Enjoyed the pussy but love my money, fuck what you thought, boo
Got use to getting use to timezone changes
Joe Namath, JET planing
For the green, you ain't paying, you ain't shit
What I'm claiming? H's clique
Don't make dollars, ain't no sense
If your bitch know me, suck my dick, I'm coming up, she think I'm rich
Way I'm living got my peers with a certain hate
Get acquainted with your maker, ever try to touch my plate
Borderline immortals, bitch from Haiti smoking in my place
Told her roll her own, cause the gods only chief to the face
Putting you on game, G-coded, lames don't understand it
Got faded and made my lane just like I fucking planned it
Manic expression, getting high keep me out of depression
Teaching every time I speak and see money the lesson

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Retch]
Minute Maid in that Cognac, two days in that same Lo
Niggas ask where the hoes at, I just act like I ain't know
Nigga, we from the same hood, all fuck with them same hoes
His bitch fuck her man, we all know how that dame goes
Came up on Park Street, swear a young nigga slang O's
Champ hoodie and it cover my face, nigga just out trying to stay low
But the Feds on my ass, while they harass, every time I see them, I be hoping they crash
Ejected from the seat and fly through the glass, his kids have to watch as they go under grass
Six feet, dig deep, we laugh, his bitch weep
R-I-P to that pipsqueak, hang a fucking cop by his pig feet
Fuck jail, I ain't going back cause I'm too fly, think orange whack
I got mad hoes, I love blowing thrax and I'm in the room, I got the loudest pack
And I really can't let none of that go
Black and from the hood with some foreign ass hoes
So I'm all up in the rearview when I'm peeping for the motherfucking Peoples
Nigga, I ain't trynna see 'em like

[Hook]