Don Producci - Back 2 The Future lyrics

[Back 2 The Future] Yo all I need is just a snippet of the orchestra But now we rockin' leathers and my team is dippin' porches Trained in special forces I remain the same Model in the rugby, with the horses in it I'm lookin' gorgeous on it A light gallop The suit is seers**er, like a scallop Cop the land and over time you see the price pile up My life style the dreams of money though it feels nostalgic It's sunny skies and good karma that keeps the cheese surrounding [You'd be astounded motha' f**a] I'm known to kick it like I'm Ronaldinho My rhymes are spicy as a jalapeño '87 fine Yovino Cash the drift One leaf wrap up the reefer Now the vision seems clear Just like the cover on the beeper 010, 7:15, month of July Shorty blowing on my dick My eyes closed, smoke in the sky Exhale right through my nose North bound, headed for gods First check, a quarter mil Half that split with the squad, kid (Bronson talking) It's like, I don't even know which way to go no more man Just reflecting on my life now I gotta get with it Yo Deep reflection, smoking drug as the wind blow Ash the $50 marijuana out the window My golden aura shine, rising past the borderline I crush the grape like a Greek to make the gorgeous wine Open the Dutch and let tobacco fly through the wind The saga begins .38 plugs, vivid like photography lens Soon to see me dip mahogany Benz I'm in the quality, monogamy with all if my gems That means I'm - true to it The beat, I give the flu to it Or maybe AIDS if I had it, cause I'm a f**in' addict I'm on the terrace drinkin' wine and eatin' f**in' rabbit To cleanse the palate, lemon segments tossed up in the salad Spark the pepper, my mind is like a Harvard lecture Bronsalini going Persian on the carpet texture Ancient Roman on the architecture Straight outta' motha f**in' queens My team, we got the heart to wet ya' A Dutch master like Robben and Sneijder Strike like a viper The bottom of shoe tap like a type writer Pipe slider, I'm a f**in' ninja warrior We do the drug and eat ćevapi in Astoria I ride zebras all through the jungle Take rock and never fumble Shoot gun right from the waist Slide piece to make it mumble On the come through Several grams are stuffed inside the grundle Saw the goal line Went airborne and did a tumble And I landed on my feet for two G's And pressed the sand Wipe the sweat right off my brow Next door dig up the lamb That's been roasting over 7 hours Bronsalini smoke the deadly sour I'm f**in' winning like I'm Kenny Powers