Jim Jones - Blow Your Smoke Lyrics
This one is dedicated from Harlem to all ya'llThis goes out from the streets of Harlem to everywhereBlow ya smokeAnd if you ride high, puts your lighters up in the airBlow ya smokeI'm blowin smoke with my top backI got my gun on me top thatShe started pressin buttons I told her stop thatCan't front I was watching where them cops atThe sun is out, my wrist rocked outI miss all my niggas locked outSo I roll a blunt for the good timesWe was just in the slums like "Good Times"Keep a bad ***** like MalonaMe and Dev was doing henny and coronasGetting money hustle hard they was on usAnd we still poor liqour for the gonersWe blow smoke like we blow moneyIt's no joke but it's so funnyShe ate me up and said "it's so yummy"The niggas sho hate but the hoes love meSpend a couple G's on my *****es purseLookin at the screen as I hit reverseLightin up backin out of Neman'sMy jewlery loud like it's screamingAnd when the last time you seen him?Shootin past, something fast, europeanCapital B on the gear shiftaNo breeze from the ceilin let the air hit yaI'm god blessed like a Prayor scriptureLord knows tryna make it up there with yaUntil then I light one upStay strapped in case a nigga wanna run upI'm still watched by rap policeThey still search me in the club like I'm strapped with heatMight catch me pumpin out in backstreetsI might be diggin out yo broad in the backseat... *****erI just wanna smoke trees in a safe placeBut when I do that I get a court caseI get a P.O. who's an *****I get bum smokers, always low on doeI get cussed out by my mom and themChangin all the locks, won't let me inI get cotton mouth, I get a bad rep,I get a book tellin me to take twelve stepsSmokin on some refa, gettin on my Wiz khalifaHad my teachers concerned real talkBut to preach what I was taughtMaster your high and learn to skywalkLife too short ain't got no resetSo do what you want, not what they expectAnd in the meantime Clockin hella checksWhile you fly real high on them paper jets foolReal dreams come true
