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lirik lagu smokin out the pound – fbg cash

[drop]
dj cortez, flay that k!ller
clout boy sh-t, man
steady smoking out the pound
this chicago

[chorus — fbg cash]
smokin’ out the pound
steady rolling up
mouth getting dry
running out of blunts
rolling up the duds
cause i’m out of bud
tracies in them blunts
swishers big as f-ck
finna k!ll an op
all i smoke is dope
you ain’t matching loud
i don’t wanna smoke
oh i think i love her
look at how she roll
yeah, that’s mary jane
never let her go

look at how she glow
everybody on her
landed in the shot
she from arizona
smoke it like a stoner
baby i’m a stoner
yeah that’s mary jane
everybody want her

[fbg young]
smoking out the bag
i’m not smoking bags
baby momma trippin
said she smelling gas
oh, look at the strands
where this from again
tooka got me choking
hit the blunt again
they don’t understand
tooka, that’s my mans
goofy n-ggas went and
took the sh-t and ran
got me off them xans
thinking about my mans
get so high i need a parachute to land

mary jane been with me for a minute
we never gonna end, we in it
i was locked up, gone for a slammer
couldn’t wait to get home to a zoned out feeling

cali kush got no season
smoke og, no p miller
came in with a zippa irene
had a dream i was rolling up the beam

smoke so much dope, i’mma od
say you are what you smoke, i’m an og
smoke so much dope, i’mma od
say you are what you smoke, i’m an og

[chorus]

[fbg dutchie]
i just smoked a zip
with somebody b-tch
and with the little b-tch that everybody hit
i don’t give a f-ck
shorty keep me lit
faded of the pill
think i’m finna drip
gotta keep at least 30 in the clip
momma pray i make it hope e’er they rip
momma, they know who they playing with
run up me wrong and they gonna eat the clip

these b-tches is going
they down for whatever
these n-gga is seasons
they change like the weather
for work in my bezzle, got stacks for whatever
free lil derail, he hotter than metal
shorty got k!lla sh-t, she a head doctor
these n-ggas broke, they bread watching
i heard he put work in, he fed copping
and not yo’ budget, that’s all i’m rocking

100 bands and it’s all my profit
hit a n-gga up, he won’t make the doctor
all my shooters turnt like wakka flokka
he ain’t really sworn, he make the roster
came a long way from backside to touch me a sack
f-ck a shoebox, rubber band in my rack
put the ice on my tech, that b-tch hang off my neck
come at me wrong, blow this b-tch like a rap
fresh out of chommo, right back to the trap
can’t feel my legs but i run through a sack
they calling me papi, they calling me help
b-tch, shut the f-ck up
put that puff in the air

[chorus]

- fbg cash

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