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bankroll mafia - smoke tree lyrics

[hook: shad da god]
b-tch can’t k!ll my vibe
b-tch can’t k!ll my vibe
i was on percs and weed and drink
she tried to look in my eyes
but i had the dior’s on, she can’t
got these hoes memorized, they tryna get televised
i’m sipping the dirty cup, some sh-t i would not advise
fire in that blunt
regular thotty, gon’ whip out the d
i had your b-tch and she wrapped ’round my feet
i get the molly, the drank and the weed
i give you extendo, it’s only my treat
i don’t wanna treat no b-tch when i just smoke tree
smoke tree, hol’ up, smoke tree, hol’ up, smoke tree, hol’ up
just smoke trees, hol’ up

[verse 1: shad da god]
gotta ride with tip
gotta keep it dirty d-ck
got a puerto rican b-tch, she on miami grit
just turn up, these streets gon’ pay me
this girl keep bankroll hold
my one hoe got that new mercedes
can’t k!ll my vibe when i’m on them percs
and all that drink me lately
think i’m gonna be slim like shady
you f-ckin’ with a bankroll baby
n-gga might f-ck around me, that chopper dead like sammy davis
balling like sammy sosa, put her up in a rover

[hook: shad da god]
b-tch can’t k!ll my vibe
i was on percs and weed and drink
she tried to look in my eyes
but i had the dior’s on, she can’t
got these hoes memorized, they tryna get televised
i’m sipping the dirty cup, some sh-t i would not advise
fire in that blunt
regular thotty, gon’ whip out the d
i had your b-tch and she wrapped ’round my feet
i get the molly, the drank and the weed
i give you extendo, it’s only my treat
i don’t wanna treat no b-tch when i just smoke tree
smoke tree, hol’ up, smoke tree, hol’ up, smoke tree, hol’ up
just smoke trees, hol’ up

[verse 2: t.i.]
in the wee hours of every morning
yeah we up with that money and steady going
your hoe know i ain’t gon’ get out
when i pull up she sitting ’round listening for bentley h-rns
that bankroll’s so necessary
you crowd me, that action ain’t mandatory
can’t compare us, i ain’t in your category
still i’m the sh-t like a lavatory
ain’t gon’ go back and forth
got your b-tch head down south and her -ss up north
give her -ss what she askin’ for
when i finish she tell me my d-ck is spectacular
make her suck on it like dracula
right ‘fore she back it up, so impressed with my vernacular
then make her a private jet p-ssenger
mile in the sky, poppin’ molly, enjoying the high

[verse 3: london jae]
act like you know i’mma k!ll it
act like you know i’m the realest
act like these b-tches ain’t gon’ chase this money
i’mma throw that sh-t to the ceiling
oh what a feeling, been at this sh-t for a minute
ain’t no safety on the folder, the clip is extended
my t-shirt is extended, my jeans is skinny
b-tch i come straight out them trenches
finally motherf-ckin’ rich now, i don’t care about no b-tch now
just cop me a six now, [?] will blast it
run through that b-tch i don’t [?] now
flying through traffic
b-tch i’m a savage
young, rich and flashy
only f-ck with the baddest
all about my cabbage

- bankroll mafia lyrics

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