Candy (feat. B-Real & Rick Ross)

[Berner]

Im in a candy paint Caddy, with a candy rained fatty

Lil' thicc bitch yeah, she think my name Daddy

Never use the same 'addys', switch up spots

They won't let me in the door, I pick the locks

Game Over, this a take over

Its hard to stay sober, Im blazed

Been paid, fuck minimum wage

With some smoke like this I got 'em trimming for days

Im out here in the bay, back and forth to LA

Place your order if you ready to shop

The lil' heat-sealed 8th bags come in a box

Yeah you've gotta move means so now I'm run in your spot

Got the whole world on lock, you still running your block

Check mate

We still get it for the best rate

Yeah they waiting for my next play

The good shit hit the chest plate

Open up the mail another check came

[B-Real]

Candy paint on the Caddy with the fatty

Burning, windows rolled up

Smoke Box, Dayton wheels turnin'

Candy flavor in my paper Life Saver

Or an hour later, now a hater bout to catch a 'L'

Neighbor crying 'bout the smell

Told him: Go to hell

He ain't ran game, hit you with the spell

Flowers burning, flowers sell

So exquisite, Xzibit rolled the blunt and hit it

Got the studio lit, it's nothing how we did it

We're so commited, they call it obsession

Fucking quit it

Just take a minute to inhale the bag and get it

Make a move, make a choice, make a good decision

You are at the counter, I'm watching you get tunnel vision

Insane glisten, and listening to your instincts

Your brain shifting, its Green Thumb, you know the link

You can find me here in Cali when Im out on tour

Dropping many flavors, its insane, you need more

[Rick Ross]

Step out the jacuzzi in Versace robe

Waiting for 200 pounds that I got on the road

I will put it on a plane, if not, know I would've drove

Only nigga in the south smoking on west coast

Black '59 Impalas, and it on gold spokes

Still two blocks away and you can smell my smoke

Quick to drop the top and let the breeze bless my beard

Candy painted Caddy in my favorite year

Baddest bitches in the city, know that we just came to get it

Twisting up at Connors Ave., then get right back to business

Got a thicc bitch in the city, spilling Belaire on the titties

Now we rolling up the Vibes, and I started with the Phillies

Canary yellow minks, like I'm Frank Lucas but tinted

Cold motherfucker, bust a nut in seven minutes

Got a condo on the beach, they might've hit me 7 million

I could never love a bitch, its not the purpose of my feelings