Lyrics

(P.S.D.) Yeah, wassup baby boy? (Hey wassup) I wanna propose a toast to my motherfuckin' partner Mac L-E-E ya know? Eh! Smoke something nigga! Ahhh, oooiiiee, it's goin down boy 1996 ya dome will grow (Chorus) (P.S.D) Every damn day I smoke dank But still I got things on my mind I can't shake (Mac Lee) And damn I can't wait for a lightweight breakthrough Grand-mama told me that money don't make you! (P.S.D.) But if your ass broke, you don't eat motherfucker! So I hit the streets, in the game as a youngster Only sixteen on the block selling candy Now my family, can't understand me Juvenile delinquent, force to describe Smokin' on 'indo twisted with Thai Had to stay high, in order to cope: The more money made, the more dank smoked Living loc', selling dope, never broke So I tweaked lightweight life Hangin' out late night, under the street light Doing tight wandering then I'm gone Was always right, and always wrong But player it was on! (Mac Lee) It was that or double edged trumps under my tongue (???) White bitch, tight shit, ain't no wonder they sprung Young player on the G-block competing with these street geeks One and of a kind, Im not one to starve On the phone call a moon yo, eight one yola. (???) Some rare raps and I'm strapped, lean crossed with cola Doja joint on my left, hollowed-points in my clip; For the set-trip I dip, a soldiers point is his grip! (Chorus)x2 (P.S.D) Every damn day I smoke dank But still I got things on my mind I can't shake (Mac Lee) And damn I can't wait for a lightweight breakthrough Grand-mama told me that money don't make you! (P.S.D) Another day another dollar to be checked, right? I'm on the ave trying to get my game tight Head lights hit the corner! And I'm on a fifth of that gin, strapped with my Mac-Ten Thirty-one reasons, a hater better think first! If it's funk, I'm letting off a quick burst! Kinda perked, but never too perked though: It's ya chance, three deep in a four door Celebrities wish they catching me out of pocket And if they stop: I'm jetting like a rocket! A young hog on the track when I'm derpin' Perking like Folgers, and I'm serving boulders Getting each and every sale: Hella fools got Llallo but I clientele! So as I kick back, on the dope track And let my mills stack forever... (Mac Lee) See what they better do is let that residue stick That Westside hoo-bang and we too thick! And we move shit around and go If you ain't from the town, you're foe Holding your wound, my 5-0 in your tomb As I zoom down the g-block and dope fiends (???) Not concered,too short Serving Sherm Newports Went from doja to crack to heroin then back Now I'm movin Sherm sticks and they don't know how to act In the 'lac dookie ground with pound Hoochies down feel my coochie-coolie cap me now (???) Taking me down, oh-no. You living foul: Never trust a big butt and a smile Or a dead nigga, thrilla for the scrilla (well)! (Chorus)x2 (P.S.D) Every damn day I smoke dank But still I got things on my mind I can't shake (Mac Lee) And damn I can't wait for a lightweight breakthrough Grand-mama told me that money don't make you! (Mac Lee) Age fourteen my whole team: Was swollen as Mumps On the savage-ass grind in the pose for months Where the spinach shit? Cause misused herb was a booster Serving murders, cause if she didn't it scared ya Went to pimp like a go-rilla Suckas bust in the girl, post the hook, best to show scrilla Cause on site I'm like "If you ain't right I want your mama!" Stictly in the game to gain, fuck the drama (P.S.D.) Crush the leafs and crumbs On the run from my evil ways Spliffs and blunts, taking tricks and punks for pay (Mac Lee) Cause in a way nigga (P.S.D.) End up in the grave nigga! (Mac Lee) Cause in the bay nigga! (P.S.D.) Purp, pop, and play nigga! (Mac Lee) Freshest when the game passed Fuck them fake players/haters Sneak on hurt something Mouthpiece worked on Real-talk, paradise Perking, irking, jerking Got my my speech slurred Ya'll cats snatch till my rides and my fleet swerve Hours and hours of tripping off the rose nigga Drop far or not, I'm a soldier like a told ya It ain't going to stop till my hashish smoked up the whole bay Down taking your birthdays from old lays (???) (Chorus)x2 (P.S.D) Every damn day I smoke dank But still I got things on my mind I can't shake (Mac Lee) And damn I can't wait for a lightweight breakthrough Grand-mama told me that money don't make you! (Mumbling, irrelevant)