G-Pop - Black Shades lyrics

Verse 1 I'm blazing with my J's on, I'm Cooley High My hair tall, eyes low, I'm faded twice Always got that green on me Irish pride I beez about them trees, I'm a nature guy Got that strong, got that bomb, got that napalm Got that loud and the volume ain't coming down I'm bumping Space Ghost Purp, burping ghost busters Blowing blueberry blunts in my Burberry Kush is my cologne. Train wreck is my fragrance Can't wait til I get home. So I light one in my Lexus Smoking on Kiesha. I'm puffing on that Reginald, that regular, that midgrade I'm premium like my gas tank Big bank dank of that stank stank. That skunk funk get you turnt up Side down. Puff puff then pa** out My eyes red, I'm going out but you can't tell that I'm zoned out My shades on, I'm showing out. And my hair so tall it stand out Pre-chorus F-Y-U-T-C-H the Great. High hair, don't care. Respect the fade Chorus Whoah, something feel different with my shades on Eyes hung low, get my blaze on Step up out the coupe smelling too strong Ain't no shame in my game with my shades on Yup in my black shades. Yup in my black shades Gucci, Louis-ed out, or Versace Pair of Air J's and my box fade I can't see you lames in my black shades Verse Will the real Mr. Flattop hair stand up? You can't touch my hair unless you grope my nuts My hair so high you catch a contact buzz That ain't co*ky, its just cautious cuz I'm dope like d** Walk around the club, see nobody These vintage Versace frames cost a grand, shawty Forget them papers, I toke rillos getting tapered Keep that Reggie for the Pacers, I got purp like the Lakers It's FYÜTCH DOGG baby. What you know about him? In a black Mercedes riding with your lady Miss me with them snapbacks, I got a high top where your crown at? I'm regal and illegal with a dime and a dime sack We at my show, but before we got some time to play She need to bust it down and twist it in a couple ways Blunt in my left and her bu*t in my right hand Hitting it from the back backstage in my black shades Chorus Verse 3 Can you smell what the FYÜTCH is cooking? I'm baking cookies with the finest goodies Of that herb you heard about that gets you trippy And makes you loopy. This ain't for the rookies My fingers so sticky my phone screen ain't working When I try to start texting, my hands like adhesive I'm a ROAR bong ripping, 1-hit and quit it Plus I sprinkle it with keef*ge like a cherry on top it