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[feat. Nesby Phips & Wiz Khalifa] [Hook:] Bartender, bartender, bartender Make me a drink (What you havin'?) What you think? shit Get me a (a Mazaltov cocktail) And (make it hurt) Yeah, and put a flame on it So I can leave a stain on it [Verse 1: Nesby Phips] Nod ya' head to the flick of my lighter Fire to the ass of a joint get ya' higher Never in over my head, I'm MacGyver Even in the midst of the madness, I'm a rider Heavy on the stamina, amateurs Easily revealed than the presence of a panther, uh Feline fantasies get fulfilled Tell them canines chill It's the leader of the pack with nine lives to live What's a king without a queen? Leader without a team? Heater without a beamer? SongtexteCrops without the cream? I'm self motivated so crops is not the thing Approval of spectators does not bring the ring of a champion Lampin' and I'm champagne sippin' Touché not the cliché, my campaign pimpin' Feel privileged if I played ya' Plastic over paper Magic over the Lakers Happy to make your day, cause [Hook] [Verse 2: Curren$y] Ya' gets no love and I thought you knew it How to wrap a groupie from the club to the jacuzzi My vernacular, more spectacular than you dudes is Word to truth in the booth, rappin confucius Hardest rhymes out, bite my shit be left toothless What I wear, what I smoke - both exclusive Prime real estate, bitches see a nigga wanna build Hold up there pimpin' got yo women catchin' chills Clear windows, see me sittin' behind the wheel On the real say I won't, bet I will But still, it ain't no fun If the homies can't get a piece of it Weed brownies in the oven By the time she was buzzin', we was already fuckin' Screamin so loud, she awoke my lil' cousin Seen 'em in the morning, she was too embarrassed to say something Bud, bitches, and breakfast - ya' gotta love it [Verse 3: Wiz Khalifa] I'm smokin on some strong Got some bitches who love to smoke bongs, papers, and bowls So pretty much, any thing goes Come and kick it, we'll blow some of this chronic smoke Go to stores to cop shit even when they say they closed These Louis, I suppose and right now, I'm high My eyes so freakin low, I might as well keep 'em closed You fuckin' with winners Kush and orange juice on my eggs, flickin' my ashes on dinner, nigga [Hook] Aus Songtexte Mania