Coolie In The Cut

Uh, I got my California green and my New York bitch

My new car clean, you should see that bit

Jet Life do they thing, every boss get rich

Bringing ounces, only personal's get lit

Been doing this, ever since I touched my first scent

I was hella bent on touching that wealth, bitch

Now I'm toasting to my health, making them niggas sick

By myself, top shelf, where the best sit, uh

Gucci gloves on my fingers

Pointing to the man and I see him in the mirror

High ass, money making, wrist taking

Niggas hating, Chevy skating, fresh from the weed now

Ready for that wake n' bake

I be coolie in the cut, twisting up, high as fuck

Mind racing behind this paper, mane' I still ain't had enough

Fool it's a must, that I get mine before I lay dead in the dust

Rolling joints up by the ounce, try not to smoke it all at once

Cause I be

All I got in this world, is my balls and my word

A few pounds of the herb, four dimes and six birds

In that zammy I swerve, out in New Orleans I'm boss

My eastside niggas say word, getting it like the first and the third

Now when it come to my pockets, it's a must I see profit

Mingo Barnes I'm the man, smoking grams, counting grands

Nice kicks, I'm the shit, stupid bitch get off of my dick

You niggas nosy like chicks, air hustling all in my mix

Catch me riding 'round with my tops down

Smoking on that kill, you know my weed loud

Mingle baby, real nigga, you can't keep down

I'm too high, eyes low, you know I'm cheifed out