Rehab - Stoli lyrics

Yo
Wassup son
Wassup, what's really good
Whats really good right now
Ha ha ha haa

I'm billin' at the club with
A bottle and a bag
Fresh to death head to toe
With that average Joe swag
Lookin' Walmart sheik with the
Exception of the sneakers
Got my own shit bumpin'
Through them Clarion speakers
Got burn one at the wheel
With the pistol on tug
Got Demun an Crisis with me y'all
Don't wanna press your luck
I got the windows down
Hoody weather with a breeze
That's four mother fuckers


Eight pockets full of cheese

I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya
A fresh bag of fire from my supplier
And I think I just saw cloud 9
Hundred and ninety-nine fly by
La la la la la la

This shit cut to the bone
Criminals sing this song (Hey)
What's real can you not feel
The way we murder and kill
Open minds up and let guts spill
Never done on this level until
Now you might win a battle or a freestyle
But that's t ball and I'm
On a million miles
You got a sling shot I got armor and a shield
And a lot of hundred dollar bills
And a hot model cooking all of my meals
New York lawyer closin' my deals
Nothing on the table, every cent banked
Dipped head to toe and my shit don't stank
Great white shark in a fish tank
Gennie in your wish list
What your bitch thank?
What your bitch thank?

I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya
A fresh bag of fire from my supplier
And I think I just saw cloud 9
Hundred and ninety-nine fly by

I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya
A fresh bag of fire from my supplier
And I think I just saw cloud 9
Hundred and ninety-nine fly by
La la la la la la
La la la la la la la la

Jimmy Ty, Daniel Ellsworth, Alexander Perkins
Got 'em all slurpin' the gherkin
Murkin' and twerkin' I'm lookin'
It's workin'
I'm arrogant, American
The liquor drinking derelict
They wonder where I get the nerve
Nowhere in particular
Bitches say I'm immature then
They want a signature
Boyfriend trippin', hematomas, ligatures
Your girl still got a pretty
Face but look at yours
I could take your hooker sure
I could also make a coffee
Table book of turds

I'm a 6 pack
And get back 12 to raise hell and a case
If you don't get the fuck out my face

I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya
A fresh bag of fire from my supplier
And I think I just saw cloud 9
Hundred and ninety-nine fly by

I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya
A fresh bag of fire from my supplier
And I think I just saw cloud 9
Hundred and ninety-nine fly by
La la la la la la
La la la la la la la la

We been poppin' collars
Like a bullet through the knot in a necktie
Headline act with a 10 o'clock set time
4 o'clock load in label on the phone
"Yo we need a record from you Danny"
Gotta meet the deadline
Another night writing for
The sunlight bedtime
Purple circles, around my red eyes
Elevate the mind state
Try to relax with a bottle and a sack
And they call this big time
Chiefin' like a chief in a wigwam
Inhale deep this shit will make ya wig warm
Crysis Jones on the left
Ty, "what the hook gonna be?"
I was thinking something like the weed hook
Don't mean, yeah
Maybe not
Take a shot of vodka
Pack another bowl up
Talk a little caca
(Talk a little caca)
Smoke until we cockeyed
(Smoke until we cockeyed)
Alright

I'm billin' at the club with
A bottle and a bag
Fresh to death head to toe
With that average Joe swag
Lookin' Walmart sheik with the
Exception of the sneakers
Got my own shit bumpin'
Through them Clarion speakers
(Speakers, speakers, speakers, speakers)
(Speakers, speakers, speakers, speakers)
(Speakers, speakers, speakers, speakers)