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berner & styles p - top floor lyrics

[intro: styles p]
f-ck this stupid high
yeah

[verse 1: styles p]
prayin’ while i’m high off pot, why i smoke so much?
’cause i’m prayin’ that the high don’t stop
you slang dope, you had to run when the 5-o stop
i never needed a g-p-ss
was doing crime since the times when n-gg-s would charge a dime for a weed bag
get four blunts out of it
hit the county for six and had to do four months out of it
the plug once called like, “all your money was counterfeit”
ain’t p-ssyin’, you ain’t say sh-t when we was countin’ it
i’m cool, my n-gg-, but this gun work, i’m down for it
these are the brakes, either know ’em, or get broken up
work on the whip, i’ma drive, let it open up
could go on a cop chase before rappers famous for block weight
high when you playin’ for high stakes
pie baked, plant-based, don’t care if you got cake
bustin’ off the 9, i’ma pop eight
ghost, n-gg-

[chorus: styles p]
the pot growin’, the pot blown
it stinks more than popcorn
if you not here, you not on
it’s the penthouse, the top floor
the pot growin’, the pot blown
it stinks more than popcorn
if you not here, you not on
it’s the penthouse, the top floor

[verse 2: berner]
you gotta stay woke, don’t let ’em tell you lies
keep your eyes open, they wanna monitor our lives
no double cups, this a different kind of high
the chocolate with the y and the burmese cherry pie
i’m in the ghost with the ghost on a three-hour ride
if we like what we tastin’, we gon’ let ’em fly
houses full of cash, we get lost in the hills
time to put it back to work and wash these dirty bills
eighty grand in a vac seal
rap cat, but i’m playin’ with that bag still
and bad business got your mans k!lled
but the f-ck the bad vibes i grabbed another advil
mother plans in the minivan
the lemonade come packaged in the little can
i keep the best stank smokin’
all this good weed it’s hard to keep my eyes open

[verse 3: cozmo]
havin’ large money and weed i used to dream about
playin’ my cards against the odds ’til it even out
i learned young, there’s some things you don’t speak about
my life on a deeper route, i smoke ’til the reefer out
rap to the speakers out
racks in a even count
peas in the duffel i could show you what the street’s about
hopin’ when i die i’ll be a legend for real
until then i’m smokin’ like i’m in the 70’s still
top down on rodeo, through beverly hills
livin’ federal, no lie, my pedigree ill
got homies locked up who ain’t seen no trial
so for them i roll up by the kilo now
stuff the wood with gelato
dump the ash, pour the bottle
watch the time tick on my movado, sippin’ moscato
gettin’ money in the same city where the mets play
you need a hundred pack?
i get it to you the next day
yeah, it’s coz

- berner styles p lyrics

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