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ray vicks & mista cain - all the smoke lyrics

[verse 1: mista cain]
turbo engine in the front, this b-tch might take off flyin’
i made fifty grand profit, you might think i’m lyin’
i’ma get the whole car flushed, you can think’ i’m lyin’
so much ice around my neck it look i been cryin’
bags of money ’round my house, my son been finding stacks
and if the bricks ain’t right then we gon’ buy ’em back
four five taurus with me and i ride with that
if you keep stuntin’ with that lil pistol you gon’ die with that

[verse 2: jaydayoungan]
you see this ar on my side, b-tch i’ll slide with that
i got the racks and flipped the packs, i ain’t know how to act
i hit the plug, we on the way, i need a sour pack
and if my b-tch run out of gas i’ma ride her back
check out my new rifle, long range, yeah i can use the scope
you step in my lane and lose your brain, disconnect your throat
b-tch reach for my chain and feel this flame, gon’ turn your -ss to toast
f-ck you and that p-ssy sh-t you claim, yeah we need all the smoke

[chorus: ray vicks]
got pounds of loud for you lil n-ggas that want all the smoke
got bricks of dog for you lil n-ggas that want all the dope
we gettin’ money, f-ck that beefin’ my n-gga
in the trap twenty-four seven, ain’t no sleepin’ my n-gga, yeah
got pounds of loud for you lil n-ggas that want all the smoke
got bricks of dog for you lil n-ggas that want all the dope
we gettin’ money, f-ck that beefin’ my n-gga
in the trap twenty-four seven, ain’t no sleepin’ my n-gga

[verse 3: ray vicks]
b-tch i’m cmr livin’, ain’t back and forth with me
crack cards at the kitchen table, baggin’ up a key
bust down on my wrist come from workin’ the stove
give a rapper five grand, he’ll sell you his soul
big timer, big diamonds, nothin’ smaller than thirty
four shows, three features, and i counted up thirty
make it hard for a p-ssy tryna rep on vicks
spent a band with a hundred, still ain’t step on sh-t

[verse 4: fg famous]
n-ggas hollerin’ they want smoke huh? i got a pack of dope
this b-tch come with a lighter, now tell me who out here tryna blow
see youngan got the rifle, he’ll snipe you with the telescope
b-tch you gon’ need a diaper, no survivor when i let it go
i been the sickest with this sh-t, go ask about a n-gga
you know we strapped up with them sticks, go put up the lil pistol
i got a bag, i’m sendin’ hits, the chopper been official
don’t make a n-gga split your sh-t, i swear this b-tch won’t miss you

- ray vicks mista cain lyrics

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