Lyrics
I was chilling in the bottle, at one in the A.M.
Smoking on a blunt, watching poppi eat trim.
Tongue deep in, between shorties two lips.
His hands were on her ass, elevating her hips.
I flow so crisp, spit raspy with a lisp.
This porn sh** has me, feeling so marvelous.
Blessing cannabis, watching the barflys walk by
The beat was hot before, now Im making it fry.
Feeling so high, watching tits clits and thighs.
Making me wanna dive, for some Eskimo pie.
Now its two forty-five, and the bottle is packed.
If I leave my table now, theres no making it back.
Loving this track, jazz and Roberta Flack.
Maybe not, but I know its something like that.
Matter of fact, it just maybe Sade.
Her smoove groves, are known to take your troubles away.
Late night at the bottle, porn on the television.
Cutting through the brain, like a surgical incision.
Causing double vision, and its a long walk home.
I got beats and rhymes, and No microphone.
Its three thirty, and shorties sitting at the bar.
Caramel complexion, brown eyes and no scars.
Shining like a red dwarf star, from twenty yards.
Body lighting up the room, like a quasar.
Cherry red lips, wearing a tight pair of Lees.
Five six slim hips, walking over to me.
Im sipping my Heineken, puffing white widow trees.
I fly through skies, like my name was Haleys.
Best believe Im f*** ing tonight, if possible.
You wanna sit next to me ma, whats stopping you.
What do I do, Im Tyger Vinum Mister Poizonous.
Artist writer poet, worldwide lyricist.
Free style arsonist, but we can talk about that later.
Right now hit this blunt and get high like an elevator.
She liked that, then told me her name.
Elaine, and up close she looked kind of plain.
Now its four A.M. and Im drunk as f*** .
Shorty talks like a dime, but I know shes a duck.
Hard on her luck, but I wasnt giving her no ends.
For a drink suck, finger f*** or skins.
Lets be friends has always been, my motto.
You pay for your own drinks, but still swallow.
I spit hollow, tip game so shell follow.
Calling me her general, like Collin Powell.
The bar was closing, time for me to go home.
Smoke a bone, throw on some beats and just zone.
She hit me with the digits to her cellular phone.
Fiending like a demon, for me to make her moan.
She had just flown, In from the Ukraine.
Outside she was on her knees giving me brain.
It felt insane, exploding like candy rain.
Tomorrow I might call Elaine, so we can do the same.
Late night at the bottle, porn on the television.
Cutting through the brain, like a surgical incision.
Causing double vision, and its a long walk home.
I got beats and rhymes, and No microphone.
