Back 2 the Future

Yo all I need is just a snippet of the orchestra

But now we rockin' leathers and my team is dippin' porches

Trained in special forces

I remain the same

Model in the rugby, with the horses in it

I'm lookin' gorgeous on it

A light gallop

The suit is seersucker, like a scallop

Cop the land and over time you see the price pile up

My life style the dreams of money though it feels nostalgic

It's sunny skies and good karma that keeps the cheese surrounding

[You'd be astounded motha' fucka]

I'm known to kick it like I'm Ronaldinho

My rhymes are spicy as a jalapeño

'87 fine Yovino

Cash the drift

One leaf wrap up the reefer

Now the vision seems clear

Just like the cover on the beeper

010, 7:15, month of July

Shorty blowing on my dick

My eyes closed, smoke in the sky

Exhale right through my nose

North bound, headed for gods

First check, a quarter mil

Half that split with the squad, kid

(Bronson talking)

It's like, I don't even know which way to go no more man

Just reflecting on my life now

I gotta get with it

Yo

Deep reflection, smoking drug as the wind blow

Ash the $50 marijuana out the window

My golden aura shine, rising past the borderline

I crush the grape like a Greek to make the gorgeous wine

Open the Dutch and let tobacco fly through the wind

The saga begins

.38 plugs, vivid like photography lens

Soon to see me dip mahogany Benz

I'm in the quality, monogamy with all if my gems

That means I'm - true to it

The beat, I give the flu to it

Or maybe AIDS if I had it, cause I'm a fuckin' addict

I'm on the terrace drinkin' wine and eatin' fuckin' rabbit

To cleanse the palate, lemon segments tossed up in the salad

Spark the pepper, my mind is like a Harvard lecture

Bronsalini going Persian on the carpet texture

Ancient Roman on the architecture

Straight outta' motha fuckin' queens

My team, we got the heart to wet ya'

A Dutch master like Robben and Sneijder

Strike like a viper

The bottom of shoe tap like a type writer

Pipe slider, I'm a fuckin' ninja warrior

We do the drug and eat ćevapi in Astoria

I ride zebras all through the jungle

Take rock and never fumble

Shoot gun right from the waist

Slide piece to make it mumble

On the come through

Several grams are stuffed inside the grundle

Saw the goal line

Went airborne and did a tumble

And I landed on my feet for two G's

And pressed the sand

Wipe the sweat right off my brow

Next door dig up the lamb

That's been roasting over 7 hours

Bronsalini smoke the deadly sour

I'm fuckin' winning like I'm Kenny Powers