Garage Talk lyrics

[Intro: Wiz Khalifa]
Uh
I just got the f*ck off a plane

[Verse 1: Wiz Khalifa]
Six car garage, I got more than one job
Be a boss, go hard
Wake up, smelling kush when I yawn
Shorty wanna f*ck with the king, tired of them pawns
Ain't on the top? Well, that's nonsense
Bank account full of G's, so that's all you gon' get
TSA know my face so they don't trip
Chain frostbit b*tch that I'm with don't give me no lip
We done touch M's, now we on to billions
Hard to explain how these new rugs feeling
Blowin' kush up in high ceilings
Having meetings at the crib, confidential dealings
And I ain't gotta tell you who the realest is, that's my n*gga Spitta
Foreign cook cheffing where the kitchen is
Money straight where my business is
And the girls f*ck with me, so I'm always where the b*tches is, kid

[Bridge]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I see all the sexy mami's in here
Hey, ayy, Wiz I smell you up here, too
Make sure you pass that KK to the DJ booth
Aw sh*t, here comes Spitta on them gold BBS's
[Verse 2: Curren$y]
Yep, swung through, gold BBS and the spoiler kit
1986, slinging that sh*t
They want the family price on the bricks
But I just had a son, and I only love him
So I ain't coming down on the price
Ain't no where else you gon' get sh*t this nice
Got cocaine white Air Force Nikes
Bought K-Swisses for all my b*tches
Put hightop troops on all my shooters
Bought the Goose down jacket from the boosters
Shootouts on the roof, racing in them coupes
She wore the Gucci frames with the door knocker hoops
And the lying motherf*cker tell you I ain't the truth
Rich uncle come through, pop the trunk, pull the duffel
Lay the merchandise out, get the loot, motherf*cker
East side real n*gga, show ya how to hustle
Outside, put the f*cking Chevrolet's on the bumper
If it don't hop, n*gga, park that sh*t
That ain't no low rider, thats a rollin' imposter
Put the stocks on fool, quit playing like you out here
2009, all kind of high
How Fly had fools on the moon trying to drive
It's a stoned duo, solid gold judo
Kicked the f*ck out that game and now she won't go
[Outro]
Ladies, if you ain't got your own drinks, you gotta get out the section
You heard my man Spitta
Fellas, raise your glasses
Tip your bartenders
And make sure you take that n*gga b*tch
We bout to ride out
Jet Life, Taylor Gang, ow