Skip to content
Lyric
Dive
Public playlists
My playlists
Search
Sign in
MESCALINE LEAVES
Lord Sko
Popularity ยท Low
+
๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
0
0
YouTube
Searching YouTube...
Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
Yeah, yeah
Uh
Ain't nothin' like summer in New York
Top down with my shirt off
Feelin' glorious
What else?
We cop fast cars but drive 'em slow
I ain't tryna race dawg
Ayo four phones, five homes, 600 clones
Headcrack the final maneuver is breakin' bones
Like I got sector loosey
God wrecked 'em truthly
Fall back salute me
Y'all n*ggas goofy
Clutch the heat and keep a steamer for a schemer
Iced out like mookie and teamer pushin' the beamer
Intricate with it
Infinite ticket
Could ride it ain't never the end
N*ggas can keep pretendin'
But you not one of the ones
Like most of my thugs, we different
Been writin' raps, reminiscin' on packs whats flippin'
Gettin chicken, extended clippin's just my background
My favorite city ain't a city that you lack ground
Seen shooters be right back, after they back down
Only motion, no emotion
Word to mami, out to my body in every ocean
Catch me floatin', coast to coastin', we postin'
Summer time with it, out my mind with it
Still on the grind with it, sip a little wine with it
Have an acid tab, tryna find my mind in it
Could make 100k, double up in five minutes
Summer time with it, out my mind with it
Still on the grind with it, sip a little wine with it
Have an acid tab, tryna find my mind in it
Could make 100k, double up in five minutes
Tear drops in the bucket, fuck it the weed burnin'
I'm not a rapper or a real person
Just a figment of imagination, past the hays
While I stand on broken glass in the back of alley ways
16, stinks of cancer in my lungs
Money dirty so I got attorneys handling my funds
Like the bread up when I'm drunk
Just a ramble with the Dutch
Flyin' stripper bitches up out of Atlanta for the month
I'm T-Mack with the handle and the clutch
Tryna make it out my city rockin' sandles in the sun, for real
I take a second to breathe
A lof of y'all favorite rappers comin' second to me
I got bitches down in Chelsea rollin' mescaline leaves
Rockin' thousand dollar pants, still distressin' the jeans
Throw the folding chair at you like Sabu
Me and Mey have a table with that plate of that wagyu, uh
Catch 20 through past bella view
Can't recall ever askin' the shit they tellin' you
Fuckin' four holes, two of them identical
No exceptions to the rule, the kid exceptional
Yeah
(Yo mey what up)
Summer time with it, out my mind with it
Still on the grind with it, sip a little wine with it
(Yeah)
Straight up and down, and you hear this shit from ___
You know what I'm sayin'
Summer time with it, out my mind with it
Still on the grind with it, sip a little wine with it
ย