ain't on your job, then we can't get along. I'm smokin everyday, my money getting long N niggas gon hate, That's why I made this song. Shorty blowin
still smoking hella blunts what? I just made use another plane And poured us some champagne As soon as we finished she was screaming out taylor game
buy the hallway Bitches I Taylor Gang that They just wanna know where the planes at And I'm addicted to champagne Fuck the room, we buy the hallway Bitches I Taylor
[Wiz Khalifa] Kush land Yea Buddy You Already know Taylor Gang Taylor Made Taylor Made Money Gang Yeaa, Bitch (laugther) The World Turns(World Turns)
't run outta gas girl Yo, yo, yo, I'm def'er than Jermaine, you could say I'm so, so Player Taylor made, that's a no, no Sure it a aftermath, but I ain
stock rims Better throw some D's on that bitch and lay low 'Cause erasin' me off the strip loc It's like Ray J or Whitney, that shit's a joke Who made
Hood famous Gettin' paper It won't change up Walkin in my Taylors Fuck haters Im getting paper Throwin my dub up Walkin in my Taylors Hood nigga forever Put a dub in the game
up bouncers, pouches Ball like a unit, fly fragrance, faceless Rarely out of spaceships, many fakes got lynched We all pornographic, taylor made mortals
though, i am the magnifico, cuban is pride, but im much more like eazy though, if you dont believe me u can see me on your tv yo, taylor made versachi
of me Shit walkin' through some razor blades, JB, help me find my way Taylor B done slipped and made a poet with a baby face Mastermind with plenty game
to drive through the turf in them candy paint Benzes I've run all this game that the hustlers pop Spittin enough game to keep a notch on the jock Now the game
uh devil Straight out of the streets of Taylor Three foot high, ready to get fly, Joe C I'm the J O E to the C, hoe Call me Joe C, got more game than
Don't let your ?? cause you know mistah hit your block Mistah, luxury, look, know what I drive Mistah, first class, look, know what I fly Mistah, taylor made
must choose So come boy, choose life or death Yeah, go to hell The only man a hoe wait for Is the sky-blue Bally kid, in eighty-three, rocked Taylor'
shoot craps, a brand new rap means a brand new gat, some rather sit around and snitch like rats, aint no tellin' where im at on the map, my chuck taylors
D, watch these watered-down clowns get drowned And lounge sound broken down in Cuba tryin' to build ships off shit they bit I spit that major play saliva Taylor-made
post techniques I drape off poetic landscapes and shapes Illustrate the paper space off the pens that paint Then design what have a National Geographic a magic With Taylor made
things, got them brains Got a million dollars locked in the stock exchange Told the dealer keep the change when I cop the rings We lock the game, we