Just tell me how high you are
I don’t know, what are you giving me?
Just tell– just tell everyone how high you are
No, I can’t talk, I’m not telling anyone
I’m not telling anyone
Can you please–
Are you recording me?
No I’m not, can you just–
You are lying
Can you please tell them?
I–I can’t describe it, I am so high
That’s it, it’s like I’m tripping
Yeah, Yeah Wolfpack
Puerto Rican Air Force One’s at the wedding Uh
I’m only speaking truth
Uh, I might open up for Bruce I might
My own horn I don’t really mean to toot
Sign big deals with yarmulkes on and suede gloves
It’s safe to say your boy done came up
Too much lobster on the plane, the plane won’t stay up Uh
Bitch, I’m butt naked, laid up
Yo, what the fuck?
This dick’ll make an R&B chick write a song
About the rain when it falls and the pain that it causes Uh, uh
And how she always wakin’ up alone?
And now Bronson gotta call Tyrone Gotta call Tyrone
Fuck that, I’m tryna blow smoke towards the moon
Till my mind start racing like zoom
I’m hotter than when Bow Wow dropped in the summer
Girls scream and I hop into the Hummer like
Uh, I’m a teenage heartthrob
You smoke little blunts like Kevin Hart’s arms Uh
My bloodline predate Aardvark and large shark Uh
And cookin’ flesh off of charred bark Aaah!
I shot dope before I wrote this
Sniffed coke and did aerobics by the ocean
This is Blue Chips 7 not Usher Uh
Big muskets get squeezed like mustard
And motherfuckers flee off in the Nissan Uhh
They say that life is like a see-saw
I roll solo, why I got these extra seats for?
Hit eject, watch him free fall Aaaaaah!
Better use both fucking feet, dog!
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Bam Bam, Blue Chips 7
My Blue Heaven..