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ab soul - money team lyrics

[verse 1: ab-soul]
don’t get too excited…
my last pack was courtesy of b-real from cypress hill
jet fuel, og, and it’s death to kill
bet i got some weed – puffy, that’s my n-gg-
we puffin’ backwoods, back to back, back to back
back to back, back to back, i’m a chiropractor, n-gg-
so high but i’m solo, the horseman on my polo’s…
h-o-c, but you don’t know, though – i’m just a high n-gg-
so when you walk by don’t say “hi,” n-gg-, don’t!
roll up some more of that money team
(i know you’ve got some more of that)
rollin’ to the chronic, smokin’ chronic, all we need’s a low-low
picked up an ounce from fountain out in day, it’s so astounding
i was on the ground, looked down, now i’m on a mountain
if fair is fair, my strand is rare, i don’t know where i grow, though
rollin’ up an ozone of this bubba, f-ckin’ up the ozone
my third i wink at you, you blink, and “poof!”
like “where he go though? he ain’t even leave the… (drive!)”

[verse 2: smoke dza]
i knew today would be a great day
i’m a f-ckin’ buddha-head, i don’t take vacays
young high-grade, i’m always in a great sp-ce
coughin’ up a lung on that kk (kush)
i’m a harlem n-gg-, every day’s payday
burn it down, vacate – i’m all about that pastry
man, like i’m marketing rev run’s daughters
but i’m talkin’ ’bout the green with the dead prez’ on ‘em (hold up)
and speaking of green, hope you got yours
cause i’m a fiend and it’s personal, parties, f-ckin’ with me (true story)
hold on to that – you might not get it back
it’s all good, though – i’m ’bout to roll another bat
i hit the bay and got some great wax
when they talkin’ ’bout loud, i don’t hear that
i’m smokin’ dope in front of dope on fairfax
jet life, n-gg- – these layer raps (dza)

[verse 3: da$h]
dope burner – layin’ a smoke sermon
as the composer close the curtain
i sit back and tell myself that it was all worth it
earth’ll morph an ocean, grown surface
matter of fact, f-ck that, don’t get excited –
it’s just another motherf-ckin’ rap song about weed
so sit back, shut the f-ck up, roll your weed
tell your older sister get the money ready
i need a half ounce later
i’m running out… not really, though
it’s your time, but it ain’t your time
eat a d-ck…

- ab soul lyrics

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