Curren$y, Wiz Khalifa, Nesby Phips - Mazaltov lyrics
Wiz Khalifa [Cameron Jibril Thomaz] Minot, North Dakota/Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Curren$y, Wiz Khalifa, Nesby Phips - Mazaltov lyrics]
Bartender, bartender, bartender
Make me a drink (What you havin'?)
What you think? shit
Get me a (a Mazaltov Cocktail)
And (make it hot)
Yeah, and put a flame on it
So I can leave a stain on it
Nod ya' head to the flick of my lighter
Fire to the ass of a joint get ya' higher
Never in over my head, I'm MacGyver
Even in the midst of the madness, I'm a rider
Heavy on the stamina, amateurs
Easily revealed than the presence
Of a panther, uh
Feline fantasies get fulfilled
Tell them canines chill
It's the leader of the pack
With nine lives to live
What's a king without a queen?
Leader without a team?
Heater without a beamer?
Crops without the cream?
I'm self motivated so crops is not the thing
Approval of spectators does not bring
The ring of a champion
Lampin' and I'm champagne sippin'
Touché not the cliché, my campaign pimpin'
Feel privileged if I played ya'
Plastic over paper magic over the Lakers
Happy to make your day, cuz
Ya' gets no love and I thought you knew it
How to wrap a groupie from
The club to the jacuzzi my vernacular
More spectacular than you dudes is
Word to truth in the booth, rappin confucius
Hardest rhymes out
Bite my shit be left toothless
What I wear, what I smoke - both exclusive
Prime real estate
Bitches see a nigga wanna build
Polar Bear pimpin' got yo
Women catchin' chills clear windows
See me sittin' behind the wheel
On the real say I won't, bet I will
But still, it ain't no fun
If the homies can't get a piece of it
Weed brownies in the oven
By the time she was buzzin'
We was already fuckin'
Screamin so loud, she awoke my lil' cousin
Seen 'em in the morning
She was too embarrassed to say something
Bud, bitches
And breakfast - ya' gotta love it
I'm smokin on some strong
Got some bitches who love
To smoke bongs, papers, and bowls
So pretty much, any thing goes
Come and kick it
We'll blow some of this chronic smoke
Go to stores to cop shit even
When they say they closed
These Louis, I suppose and right now
I'm high my eyes so freakin low
I might as well keep 'em closed
You fuckin' with winners
Kush and orange juice on my eggs
Flickin' my ashes on dinner, nigga
Make me a drink (What you havin'?)
What you think? shit
Get me a (a Mazaltov Cocktail)
And (make it hot)
Yeah, and put a flame on it
So I can leave a stain on it
Nod ya' head to the flick of my lighter
Fire to the ass of a joint get ya' higher
Never in over my head, I'm MacGyver
Even in the midst of the madness, I'm a rider
Heavy on the stamina, amateurs
Easily revealed than the presence
Of a panther, uh
Feline fantasies get fulfilled
Tell them canines chill
It's the leader of the pack
With nine lives to live
What's a king without a queen?
Leader without a team?
Heater without a beamer?
Crops without the cream?
I'm self motivated so crops is not the thing
Approval of spectators does not bring
The ring of a champion
Lampin' and I'm champagne sippin'
Touché not the cliché, my campaign pimpin'
Feel privileged if I played ya'
Plastic over paper magic over the Lakers
Happy to make your day, cuz
Ya' gets no love and I thought you knew it
How to wrap a groupie from
The club to the jacuzzi my vernacular
More spectacular than you dudes is
Word to truth in the booth, rappin confucius
Hardest rhymes out
Bite my shit be left toothless
What I wear, what I smoke - both exclusive
Prime real estate
Bitches see a nigga wanna build
Polar Bear pimpin' got yo
Women catchin' chills clear windows
See me sittin' behind the wheel
On the real say I won't, bet I will
But still, it ain't no fun
If the homies can't get a piece of it
Weed brownies in the oven
By the time she was buzzin'
We was already fuckin'
Screamin so loud, she awoke my lil' cousin
Seen 'em in the morning
She was too embarrassed to say something
Bud, bitches
And breakfast - ya' gotta love it
I'm smokin on some strong
Got some bitches who love
To smoke bongs, papers, and bowls
So pretty much, any thing goes
Come and kick it
We'll blow some of this chronic smoke
Go to stores to cop shit even
When they say they closed
These Louis, I suppose and right now
I'm high my eyes so freakin low
I might as well keep 'em closed
You fuckin' with winners
Kush and orange juice on my eggs
Flickin' my ashes on dinner, nigga