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state trooper - marijuanaxo lyrics

[intro: marijuanaxo]
bro wonder—
bro wonder why
huh, the f*ck they be hatin’
ayy

[verse 1: marijuanaxo & funnymoney]
bro, i wonder why these n*ggas hatin’
they’d stab you in your back but smile in your face
mix that fetty with that lac, and the raw, now it’s great
every day i wake up, it consists of gettin’ pape’
roll a big ‘wood of zotti, i’ma dome it to the face (ayy, ayy)
state trooper tryna fl!ck, it’s gon’ be a chase
if i get caught with these grits, it’s gon’ be a case
that’s why i’m out the way, ayy
boss, tell them n*ggas ’bout them nights out in tray
pourin’ up purple in a pink lemonade
i can get them books, lil’ n*gga, read a page
b*tch bring them chips right back, so i call her babe
i ain’t racist, i’ll serve a white woman
i’ll serve a black n*gga, just tell me who want it
and i grew up on brown, twenty*six to be exact
makin’ antics with my n*gga hundred, dabbin’ all that crack
and we was swipin’ heads from the south all the way to cap
might sip a deuce of that juice just to take a nap
mr. take a sack and i ain’t need a strap
why you askin’ blow, bro? you know you ain’t gettin’ it back
b*tch, don’t go loud while you with me, that’s a pet peeve
act right? sh*t, now, buy the best weave
no up, how you puffin’ on the best weed?
how i want no lip, lil’ b*tch, just neck please
told brodie that we in this sh*t together
yeah, we trappin’ in that rain, but it ain’t gon’ last forever
gotta grit in any weather, bro, i promise it get better
two heads always one broke, we gon’ run it up together (ayy, ayy, ayy)
[verse 2: funnymoney]
a two phones, i’ll weigh one, crack ’em both together
it’s a blizzard in a mill, you know we trap in any weather
the five grits or better, beat you know i’m pullin’ up wherever
that take a hundred to two*fifty, free grits, now they for sixty
ayy, i got bobby and that whitney
girl jumpin’ in that kitchen, she be swimmin’ like the fishes
and d*mn, i’ve been givin’ out free gritties
i’ve been goin’ head for head, servin’ neph without [?]
uh, yeah, b*tch call me poppa like i’m biggie
green versace glasses on, can’t see my opps behind these tints
and like the president, five percent rapped around this whip
and this a sp*ceship, not a blimp, free bookpaid just like a kid
and they’ve been hatin’ since a kid
step on bricks and leave a print, dior boots, not no timbs
and bah, i think they hatin’ about a b*tch
with all this ice around my neck, this sh*t cold, it got ’em sick

- marijuanaxo lyrics

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