Paperboys lyrics

*yeah, hold on, shit, so smooth, ya..* [Vinni] ey yo I love it when the sky's blue I'm leaning heavy to the side when I slide through red in ma eye, you know how I do ready to ride, me and my crew, veterans high we keep the medicine inside let me guide you were fly tool splitting hash with cynics coz they don't wanna let these bastards in it filling marihuana passed the limit we've been ignored for these past few minutes now I'm sure we're the last lieutenants we get the cash printed while backpackers getting pissed telling me I cant be rapping to this I've got the snap of an immaculate wrist keep it cracking in this natural mist to make it happen, get my track on the list, I'm not an activist I play it cool, the type that likes to stay in the pool with weed swaying through ma molecules I follow jewels while running with rum that's where I'm humming it from coming like, "Vinni, you son of a gun" Chorus: shit it's really all the same, ain't nothing to tell and I ain't really trying to change always puffin a L might as well yo coz I ain't tryin to be like you see we just do the shit that we like to, "we're high" shit it's really all the same, ain't nothing to see we're only dealing with some change, ain't no fucking for free can't complain, get a couple of g's and roll on and all you funny motherfuckers so long ther eain't nothing you can tell me untill they're hearing the bells that set ma cells free I'm wearing this shell might as well be sharing ma spells where they sell g's staring at fellas that yell please spending parallell cheese, just like me and same recognize same so I reckoned I'd explain for a check in ma name champagne and a second of fame, see I'm reppin for lames mic-checking and I'm stepping up ma game trained for ma turn to spit, It's ma life I've earned the script nice and I ain't concerned with shit payed the price and firmed the grip, learned the tricks of the trade to fix shit like a switchblade, the music-industry is bitchmade dummis and gimmicks and in a few Ill be running this clinic I don't really care for none of your limits, that's on you shouldn't listen to them fools they be wrong too Chorus: these are the gratest hits also known as the only hits how long you think it is before we gon blow this bitch? trade in these bogus kicks, shit sober up and focus work the shoulders, see me vouge-ing like that shit was chic or I'll be six feet deep - hating on the dream still waiting for the cream vacant with the scheme, naked all green with no bacon just skin future science celebrating how they made him this thin I'm breaking it in, awaking in the A.m., working overtime I'll have your folders lined, big up to Copyline the show is signed, sealed, pressed and shipped - just in time, man I guess that's it Chorus: -see ya! Get This Ringtone

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