Rob Ace - Martin, Interlude Lyrics

I swear to god can you get off my phone
Hold up is somebody callin the phone?
Tired of shorty like talk to my bro
She say she borin then she gotta go
Stayin til mornin then she gotta go
Soon as it's 4 better wrap up the show
They ain't throw down then I pack up the O
Save that for later get smacked like before
Hop in the fader get back on the road
Call up my homie like match on the road
I had a bike niggas trapped on the road
Got some prescriptions and that shit was sold
Call up the bro and we put on a show
Venues they sold, bitches they bold
Titties to hold, asses to throw
Gas and I smoke
Pass and I stroke
Smacked and I drink
I'm gone in a muhf*ckin' blink
That gold on my muhf*ckin' link
Make it hot like a muhf*ckin' mink
This for the whip
This for the head, while I smoke
Gave up the lean but right now ima po
Still on my jeans like this bitch gotta go
F*ck do you mean can you get off my coat
No this ain't tommy my nigga it's Polo
This ain't quarter, this a ocho
Outta the border still hate the monos
Still on a corner like I'm in Harlem
I'm in the Heights wit the carbon
Ballin like Harden chillin with Spartans
Lookin for pardons you is a target
High as a Martian, still watchin' Martin