Smoke Video (MV)

Mama moved us to Georgia, when I was like six
Got jumped and hung from a tree by some white kids
They left me there to die that's when I knew life was sick
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, or it hurts like a bitch
Can't tell I'm from New Orleans by the way I speak proper
All I do is make money, smoke weed and drink vodka
Socially awkward, deep thinker, small talker
But will ride till I die, rest in peace to Paul Walker
Write bars with a marker, cause I don't make mistakes
Plus every rhyme that I recite is just too nice to be erased
We might just be the greats, the icing on the cake
And I just gripe out of spite whenever this mic is in my face
They say you gangsta but I doubt it, my hood wouldn't allow
Pull ya card in front ya yard bet you wouldn't do shit about it
Except just throw ya hands up, tryna act tougher
Get heated and blow smoke, that's a bad muffler
Motherf*cker

Smoke, Smoke

2016 I'm bringing back them Air Forces
Make a killing, compare corpses, straight cash a rare fortune
Hahaha, these niggas lame, stick a fork in em
Hahaha, they all the same and I'm scorching em
Insane, it's a shame how they came to know more of em
Peel this mask back and spit flames like I'm Scorpion
Ask Roscoe who was that 15 year old kid
That he said would be the greatest rapper to ever live
Ask Bonka Off Da Block who taught him to count bars
Way back when we were too young to be out past dark
Ask yourself why you ain't heard of me, take a guess I'll wait
Ask my momma who been writing rhymes since the second grade
Ask Pookie Stroud how he go so hard on the mic
Shit ask my brother Teck who taught him to write

Psyche
He don't listen, aye, aye, but listen

Serial killer don't make me f*cking snap, crack, pop
A wack job, start the flipping like a mascot
Run up on ya weed-man, take everything his ass got
Hahaha, that's what the f*ck I call jackpot
Green screen how your girl make that back drop
Kobe Bryant, Derek Rose I crack myself up
Too soon, well so the hell what
I'm holding my own trapping, holding my own rapping
Holding a bolt action cause why, I'm old fashioned
But this is my promise, like comets I'm rare
When I streak across the sky, all the novice will stare
And honest I swear, Chop said they gonna doubt him
But like my ex girlfriends I ain't worried bout them
The higher I soar, the smaller I seem
To those who can't fly so I follow my dream

And I smoke