BMF 2 – Looney (feat. Santi)

[Looney:]
Nah, it’s cool, it’s cool
Yo
Listen, yo

I’m like C (Yep), wavy mode, you’re not like me (No)
I heard the lighty ting likes me
I might call her up to come ride me
I got fly kicks, Tai Chi (Trust)
Bi-sex, she might be
When we touched her, she bite me
She looked prestige in that nightie
Not a British gal but she like tea (Uh)
She said her ex is some hype G (Long)
And now he saying he wan’ fight me
But I’m skinny cuz, I don’t fight B
I go rent a ting and go light heat
Law and Order, Ice-T
Swag’s up, check the Nikes G
I got the Levi jeans and a white T
See I’ll buss true and I’ll make cake
Dope chef (What?), milkshake
White Scirroco (What?), bait shape
Niggas talk shit, better vacate
See, I’m good, they’re shit, I got bars, so they hate
I’m pure coke and they’re bait fake
Talcum powder and VAT shake
Hair’s wavy, shades windy
Beat the track and that’s no Jimmy
All your chicks all look so silly
My new bitch looks so Kimmie
So Alba, so Perry, buss the top of that old Remy
Ain’t got champs, then we pour Henny
I’m so calm and you’re so Kenny

[Santi:]
Like, hands on spinner, stinking out the ringer
Ricky Rozay, yeah, I ride for my niggas
Puffing on the icky when pressing on the trigger
Mine and yours like, “Yah, I want figures”
Creepin’ for the cash, weed up in the bag
Smokin’ the dope crazy but I’m already mad
Bashed up a zoobie, smoke it in the flats
No money in my bank, yeah, I spend it in the trap
Make more dough, I gotta spend more dough
You can talk about dro but you don’t really know
About sitting in the flats, puffing, you can choke
On the phone to a hoe like you know you’re gonna blow
On the staircase and I don’t really give a fuck now
Like, I’m gonna fuck you, so I don’t give a fuck
Puffing on a fat blunt, sipping ’till the ‘gnac’s done
I’m with the mad jezz, so you know I’m gonna spazz cuz
[?] with the shisha, [?] the Latina
When he got a jezzy, he weren’t puffing on the reefa
I love white girls, so I’m rolling up with Lisa
Telling me I’m naughty, looking like a teacher
Shit’s so cloudy, I didn’t even know
That we’re out of dro, we smoked the whole O
Been so wavey, you’d think I’m in a boat
Now I can’t drive, bro, know I’m ghost
Aura’s nuts, floating grub
Tryna get paid, ain’t promoting much
So I’m rolling around with a loaded snub
And if I see a paigon I’m roasting mugs
Certified bruddas will toast them punks
Tints down low when I’m blowing skunk
Don’t talk my name, I don’t know them punks
Studio murder, I ain’t ghosting much
Got Looney out loud when I’m rolling up
Everyone the side of this road’s too tough
Yeah, I’m going in, I don’t boast too much
Rather roll around and throw some grub
I ain’t throwing up, I might throw some slugs
If you don’t like me, I don’t care
I’m rolling round getting pounds out here
Strikes in the boot for that rasta hair
Jakes smell weed, but I don’t care
Ghost from the set and they won’t know
Silly little trappers don’t own no coke
In that coupé and I’m blowing smoke
I’m out anywhere, like coast to coast
Rolling toke, blow some smoke
Check the shoebox, got some crazy notes
Like yeah, I got some crazy flow