BIG SEAN - Five Bucks (5 On It) lyrics

rate me

[Big Sean:]

I do it

D townn

Boyyy, hey

Ok, I'm smoking loudly I woke them all, I pick up that tree when it's not fall. I'm going off that tree when it's not tall. I'm in love with tree I'm a avatar. I pick up an O from my nigga ralphy, my bro and me but he is not alphy, going of that goo punch it makes me drouzy, roll up the window it makes it cloudy. Damnn, if you ain't know, I made these girl nice smoke paper and bowls, my ladies like blunts hit em twice if not once. I blow em off and just pass em to my bros. Now catch you getting brains if a nigga not learning. I spending money if a nigga not earning. Catch me in the backseat if I'm not stirring, and I be rolling up if a nigga not burning.

[Chorus:]

I got five on it,

Have your bowl and get beat.

I got five on it,

Messing with that endo weed,

I got five on it,

If you got me stuck and not go back,

I got five on it,

Now let's go hop outside.

[Chip Tha Ripper:]

You know a nigga like to stay at that cruising altitude up in the sky, try and fuck with paper planes but it's not the same high. Cleveland niggas ain't no bitches we prefer the cigarello smoke. If you say you take away the taste and get some better smoke. Cause this shit I blow can get smelt on the next block. Ain't no middle mans every thing you need is in stock. This gloc is all the security I need. I be solo, dolo, when you see me blowing on some weed. Watch me, no be, I be just taking it slow, I be so clean diesel over powers my cologne, now all the bad bitches who blazed on shit this way, you all just some white girls with leaves I am the sensai, now I bow to the bag never save the best for last, cause when I come around niggas know to hurry up and pass. Fuck a dime son, let's cop a quarter pound, what the fuck is you gonna put down. Nigga I got five.

Chorus]

Curren$y:]

How wired, 6-4 hydraulics. Now stolen lost my keys that was high platinum. Fuck you want, this the raw paper now the blunt you must got me mixed up with chip cause this spitter zig zag a whole zip up shit strung shoulda came with a big pick up. Bitches calling me, wanna smoke big and for me to pick up, she blow me while I'm blowing rings of that killa, that weed you smokin brown. Fake weed to much make a clown. Get real smoking green strawberry fields. High standing up feeling like I'm laying down, couple bugee cuties came round acting stuck up now they just stuck from smoking with us. Had that hallways smelling as my windows opening up I inhale walk and talk as the security coming up.

Chorus]

Thanks to Jay Viers for correcting these lyrics