Gas lyrics

[Intro]
I got you, homie
Yeah, okay
We in this b*tch
Okay, ha ha
Deuce!

[Verse 1]
Yeah, they call me Deuce, what it do Jack?
Far from a new Jack, this game like roulette
Your mixtape trash, a hoe motherf*ckin crew at
She spin on that chain, I’m with the foxfill and blew that
She wanna know what kind of vehicle I’m whippin in
I’m picture-perfect in this motherf*ckin Instagram
50 band, pounds signed no filter
Call that ambulance for the beat cuz I killed it
Uh, my ensemble’s true religion
Got a Puerto Rican with me and shе truly with it
If we talkin bout some money wеll I truly get it
Everyday I’m hustling, stack it to the ceiling

[Chorus]
Uh, I’m blowin gas, propane
She let me hit it the first night, no shame
I told that hoe my time is money like an Audemar
Always on the grind with it just to keep from fallin off
[Interlude]
f*ck em, f*ck em
Like I said, baby
Time is money like an Audemar
Offshore to be exact
On the set though, let me hit that one time
Turn back up on these n*ggas
It’s only low such as reality up there
Deuce!

[Verse 2]
Gasoline blowin straight up out of Baghdad
Sippin lean got a n*gga feelin jetlag
First you go and get that money then respect and power
And turn around and run rap, Kevin Laws
I’mma ball the f*ck out til they come for us
In a fresh pair of shells like a marker us
They say you only live once, YOLO
That’s probably why I f*cked around and went solo
Instrumental serial killer murder for the hire
Set the studio on fire and posted on this as 50
Play the villain in the C Line, my n*ggas that’s from the 50’s
Got a room up at the W, down to take it with me
On a road to riches, I’m flyin to go and get it
Take yomotherf*ckin life, I’m tryna run n*gga though
Louie aviators, lookin like some pilots
Say it’s just half what the writers say
Say we come through like a tidal wave
Countin paper like I’m readin through a text book
Livin like a athlete, neighbors think I’m westbrook
Travelled all around the world, never been to Ocklahoma
Bustin disappearin act on er, hocus pocus
Uh, I swagged out in these Feragamas
Mack that pus*y out like I’m Rocky Marciano
Pull up to the grey stone in the Maserati
With some white girls with me and they just wanna party
I pop the bottle and they popin molly
Then it’s back to the spot for the afterparty
I start a riot, burn it down just like a finco
Surfer then a rapper like I’m smoking on a eggroll
And n*gga f*ck what the haters thinl
They see me laughin outloud, straight to the bank
Moneymaking, all these hoes in the catfight
People don’t b*tch with me, all the flights