French Montana, Rick Ross, Max B Smoking pt. 2

Coke Boys, Coke Boys Fuck bad bitches, smoke big blunts Who am I to tell you different? You only live once Stack riches, toting big drums And fuck who tell you different, bitch, we the ones You must be going blind You know I love it Water fall on the wall, don't you get amazed Max B home, you can hear the waves Dope boy born for the center stage Twenty Maybachs on the interstate Diamonds on my neck like I'm Mufasa One Tupac, nigga 2 Hoppas Big Mobb nigga, guess who shot you Top down, paka paka paka paka Spent 5 million for the wrist wear My nigga shit, yeah, and I'm talking this year You got the same watch that my bitch wear And my Virgil Air 1s on my sixth pair My niggas in a bar smokin' smoke Got my niggas in the car smokin' smoke We got the bars open, waiting on niggas to come (Waiting on niggas to come) Yeah, nigga, my bars are wavy Nigga, even those stars pays me We working hard, baby, waiting on niggas to come (Waiting on niggas to come) Jose Don Velli Montana They ain't with us on the ride, gotta watch 'em sink Hit the stu', grab the pen, it's the holy ghost of chinx Got a yellow, got a rose, got a white gold My chest like Shaquille from the line, ice cold And you can ask the New York streets, we the culture From the mud to the platinum albums, I done told you Fourth quarter shooter in the three-quarter mink Before my music hit the movies, been the legend with the syncing Riding 'round with the gang, if they eat, I eat I ain't get rich at once, got it piece by piece (Coke Boys) Making hit after hit, we in the trophy room Cosmos, French Riviera, coming soon My niggas in a bar smokin' smoke Got my niggas in the car smokin' smoke We got the bars open, waiting on niggas to come (Waiting on niggas to come) Yeah, nigga, my bars are wavy Nigga, even those stars pays me We working hard, baby, waiting on niggas to come (Waiting on niggas to come) Jose, what's good? Montana, let's go Yo, my shit slaps on the coast of Dubai Got a license to kill, I got a license to drive Point 5, my drive won't find my strive It's the real Don Veli, I don't hide my shots Sport thousand-dollar shades when I hide my eyes And I always give 'em ways every time I try Aye, pops, yo' boy brave, at times, I cry And I wear a seat belt every time I ride I, no doubt, took a nigga whole route Take a look at my concerts, the shit is sold out The hell with the slow routes, the hell with the rollouts You rap nigga's ass with no clout Can't see me You must be going blind