BudderScotch Monk112 (Ft. Capital STEEZ)

[Verse 1: MONK]

Higher than a 747

All the souls of those who passed on 9/11, rest in peace

Thought I almost lost my mother and my bredren

So I got to make it 'for they sent to Heaven

'Cause, ain't too many smiles on my nigga's faces

They ain't complacent with the bullshit that they facing

Severance my herb, my motivation

For writing all these lines, I hope that y'all could trace him

Follow that, and I ain't talking tweeting

No fucking relatives of death, so I ain't sleeping

I'm never slipping, like I was in the shower freaking

I'm tryna have us all living like every day's the weekend

The weed lit, my cup chilled, and we ain't stressin 'bout that Olde E that we just spilled

Self made, so I'm tryna build, been too long at the bottom, ain't see the top still

[Chorus]

My cup filled, my cup cold

Just copped, I just rolled

Model chick, she at least a dime

I say we children of the world, I say the world's mine

[Verse 2: Capital STEEZ]

This Cali grown got me hella blown

With my head up in the stars like a telescope

You can find me with a yellow bone

And she probably trying to get in the zone or somethin’

It's enticing, he got a bad temper like lightning

You never hit twice in the same spot

I suggest you stand back if you can't box

These Vans never even hit the skate shop

I'm on bullshit chillin' in a tank-top

With like three bad bitches, Baywatch

My bad, I don't really like degrading women

But half these rappers ain't living how they say they living

The line between real and fake is now paper thin

And this is sucker free, so at least try to pay attention

Or pay your dues, and don't make a move

It's pay-per-view, no cablevision