Reggie Sinatra - Hotbox

Hello
Started at the house, asking what the hell to do
And I'm seeing all the time, knowing that it's passing through
Calling on my friends and they rolling up their weed
It's hot up in the streets, like 300 degrees
Weave roll, slow roll, baby cash out
It be better, than me, than you, know imma act out
Generation curse, yup I'm sleeping with the karma
I wonder
Dial money phone, speaking to my mama
Baby boy
Imma messy boy
She's a tad bit coy
With a loud ass voice
And he's
Caffeine bound
Crash bound at your Starbucks
Come to alarm us
Such a good boy, drama
Loud mixed your six sense
Cough
Huh fake friends
Never know if you'll die before the day ends
Weigh the pro, the more the cons
You with the shits, the more there are
Don't be looking far
Within one is a great big star
The highs brings the lows in the mist of the trifle
Happy cant be with things, but what do I know
Life's suicidal
Demanding denial
Who knew Pursuit of Happiness could be so futile
Started at the house, asking what the hell to do
Seeing all the time, knowing that it's passing through
Calling on my friends and they rolling up their weed
It's hot up in the streets, like 300 degrees
Like fuck
Started at the house, asking what the hell to do
And I'm seeing all the time, knowing that it's passing through
And I'm calling on my friends and they rolling up their weed
It's hot up in the streets, like 300 degrees
Skit
I am the most faded I've ever been
For me to be this, I think it is a sin
But I ain't tripping
Just sit back and cut on friends
Talk about the new instagram trend
Thinking its happening again
The language I'm using isn't really that proper
Thinking if my grandma heard me then her life might just prosper
Black Hooded
Smile Crooked
Catch a gram in central booking
Pass a loogie on the pussy
Then bet to getting pushy like
Wow
How did Plankton go to this
He's talking on that nasty sexy freaky type of shit
Ive already got ahead
No take backs on what I said
Lay your head and go to bed
In school I was undeclassifed like I'm Ned
But got a Dime case, and money in my pockets
Yes I'm balling like I'm Kobe but end up with the Rockets
I'm in this small car high and its filled with smoke
We about to get out because on this smoke we might just choke
Yo

Written by:
Dennis Ballew

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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