This your boy Wiz Khalifa man
And I'm a talk my sh**, yeah, b**h
I hope ya'll n***as is used to hearing my voice by now,
And if not, get used to it
I woke up from a California dream again,
Next to someone's daughter who I'll probably never meet again
You call her a groupie hoe?
Ask me I say she a fan
Spending all her hours thinking bout what she gonna do and when
I be on that 747 flying frequent sh**
You get all the press and try to check for when I'm due to land
And get home in the daytime, way about the PM
Tryin' to finish living out this dream so I be sleeping in
And they ask me if I'm lonely
I ain't long as my money good cause she my one and only
Critics got they face up in my business gettin nosy
But I'm just out here putting on for anyone who knows me
No, I ain't in my position getting comfy
Drinking bigger and ifa chief and bring alisa oz
I stay with me some backup, in case you run up on me
He gonna play the pastor, make a n***a holy
They call me the 501 Don
Mr. know he got a pear of 501's on
My marijuana strong and these hoes ain't sh** but probably calls
Dog I met her at the club, we was f**ed up wildin
Made it to my crib we was both drunk, driving
Now you on some lame sh**, claiming you're my main b**h
Do us both a fav, don't text, don't call me, darling
I was made to ball it's like Spaulding rolling
They say I'm the bomb and they call Wiz, atomic
Hotter than New Orleans, or a geoge foreman grill,
And Chevy eyes caught like Jalil
I'll is what I go so I need sudafed,
Big dog n***a all ya'll poodle fed
Money in the wall all through the vent
Still got time to blow