Lyrics to Green Tea
Yeah, yeah
White tee clean, I be lookin' clean
I be lookin' G, I be rollin' in a Beam', yeah
Haha, woah, ah, hahaha
I feel like, I feel like I'm in 2— (Yeah, okay)
Red Motorola and the mink for my holster
Diamonds got—, yeah
Yeah
Red Motorola and the mink for my holster
Trunk fit with the Bapestas like I'm Weezy
It's 2005, dancing like I'm Chris Breezy
Scoping out treetop (Top), you can't even see me
Okay, the gun's on the table, just pick the toolie up
That's what's up, posted in the cut, smoke you like a blunt
Yeah, fuck you, nigga, you a bitch and your bitch a cunt
All these niggas fakin' for the 'Gram, it's a front
Okay, I know you don't got my back, bro
I work hard every day, I'm alone
And what you call is hell, I call home
I put that shit on my back, but that shit breakin' my bones
Now watch your tone, texts are blowin' up my phone
I'm in a different zone, I'm the realest one, I'm not a clone
And every time I pray to God, I'm always on my knees
I look up at the sky, "Take the pain away, please"
Wash away my sins with the Henny and the gin
Fuck a therapist, bitch, I take it on the chin (Fuck)
Thought you was my friend, bitch, thought you was my kin
I'm ridin' down to London, bitch, catch me in the ends
I don't follow trends (Nope), I don't make amends
Life is what you make it, but I can make it end
I close the Rolls Royce, hear the flames through my voice
I always been a soldier, I ain't never had a choice
Red Motorola and the mink for my holster
Trunk fit with the Bapestas like I'm Weezy
It's 2005, dancing like I'm Chris Breezy
Scoping out treetop (Top), you can't even see me
Okay, the gun's on the table, just pick the toolie up
That's what's up, posted in the cut, smoke you like a blunt
Yeah, fuck you, nigga, you a bitch and your bitch a cunt
All these niggas fakin' for the 'Gram, it's a front
Okay, I know you don't got my back, bro
I work hard every day, I'm alone
And what you call is hell, I call home
I put that shit on my back, but that shit breakin' my bones
White tee clean, I be lookin' clean
I be lookin' G, I be rollin' in a Beam', yeah
Haha, woah, ah, hahaha
I feel like, I feel like I'm in 2— (Yeah, okay)
Red Motorola and the mink for my holster
Diamonds got—, yeah
Yeah
Red Motorola and the mink for my holster
Trunk fit with the Bapestas like I'm Weezy
It's 2005, dancing like I'm Chris Breezy
Scoping out treetop (Top), you can't even see me
Okay, the gun's on the table, just pick the toolie up
That's what's up, posted in the cut, smoke you like a blunt
Yeah, fuck you, nigga, you a bitch and your bitch a cunt
All these niggas fakin' for the 'Gram, it's a front
Okay, I know you don't got my back, bro
I work hard every day, I'm alone
And what you call is hell, I call home
I put that shit on my back, but that shit breakin' my bones
Now watch your tone, texts are blowin' up my phone
I'm in a different zone, I'm the realest one, I'm not a clone
And every time I pray to God, I'm always on my knees
I look up at the sky, "Take the pain away, please"
Wash away my sins with the Henny and the gin
Fuck a therapist, bitch, I take it on the chin (Fuck)
Thought you was my friend, bitch, thought you was my kin
I'm ridin' down to London, bitch, catch me in the ends
I don't follow trends (Nope), I don't make amends
Life is what you make it, but I can make it end
I close the Rolls Royce, hear the flames through my voice
I always been a soldier, I ain't never had a choice
Red Motorola and the mink for my holster
Trunk fit with the Bapestas like I'm Weezy
It's 2005, dancing like I'm Chris Breezy
Scoping out treetop (Top), you can't even see me
Okay, the gun's on the table, just pick the toolie up
That's what's up, posted in the cut, smoke you like a blunt
Yeah, fuck you, nigga, you a bitch and your bitch a cunt
All these niggas fakin' for the 'Gram, it's a front
Okay, I know you don't got my back, bro
I work hard every day, I'm alone
And what you call is hell, I call home
I put that shit on my back, but that shit breakin' my bones
