#13

you gotta strike when the irons hot/no holds barred no pot/to make that dolla and push the midnight blue impala/me and the boys headin down to Star Island/Mia, Fla/
once i land and hit the tarmack/3 shots of jack to pick up the slack

sittin in the shade drinkin mojitos/na boy they aint played/mix that suga water with the mint/mext thing you know we be swervin/not yet in Cuba or Columbia/where they are the real deal/next big thing will be Havana Hanna/some resemblence to Escobar/narcotics from United States to South America by boats and planes/you see my stamp on the product to know whose getting you high and whats my name

partying this weekend/no joke its time to spend/hittin these Columbus streetz the way Rob drops beats/old school style Biggie, Riz and Dukes causin a fuss/3 rappers just tryin to make it/that old bus turning right on Calhoun from King/headin to the glory days of Norms and beyond/cross the Ashley first and keep truckin on/lookin for something, but who knows what it is/former selves but now they are just shadows

was hangin at Kooma with this dirty bitch named Cassie/always Prada, Minolos and she think she sassy/her painted on eyebrows nobody would pick her up if she was trying to hitch/like Charlize in Monster/only difference is she's left in the dust wondering what happened and she aint got no sponsor

Fryman and Hanna pick up that white toy/it dont make you act coy roy/flyin in on the Grey Goose/drinkin Manhattans and Martinis/the next day wondering what the fuck happeed