Mazaltov

Bartender, bartender, bartender

Make me a drink

(What you havin'?)

What you think? shit

Get me a (a Mazaltov cocktail)

And (make it hurt)

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'

Touch not the clich, my campaign pimpin'

Feel privileged if I played ya'

Plastic over paper

Magic over the Lakers

Happy to make your day, cause

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

Hold up there 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