Hit The J

That Mary Jane

That OG kush, that sour diesel drive them girls insane

I roll it up, she disappear like David Blaine

And she ain't tryna to book a flight on that paper plane

She don't wanna hit the J

She don't wanna hit the J

She don't wanna hit the J

She don't wanna hit the J

Throw on that undefeated tank, and throw on my chain

Throw on that new Kid Red, *****, its money gang

See that red Maserati, niggas know it's Game

Drive that ***** down Rosecrans and blow the brains

Got that Rolly on my wrist, man that ho insane

Remind me of my chick Regatta, she out in Spain

Got a squad full chicks, I ain't dropping names

They all ball like the girl that play for Notre Dame

What's her name? Skylar Diggins yeah that's right, that's right

You know I'll be digging, I'll be eating out that kitten

I'll be piggin' out

Never take her out to crustaceans, it be In-N-Out

Just like that Chocolate shake, nigga goin' in her mouth

She do everything except smoke, that mean let a nigga poke

That mean she be off the coke like Paris and her folks

Swear to God she a poke man

But she like Lindsay Lohan, except she be running from that **** man

That Harry Potter, that Mary Jane

That OG kush, that sour diesel drive them girls insane

I roll it up, she disappear like David Blaine

And she ain't try to book a flight on that paper plane

Cause she don't wanna hit the J (she don't wanna hit the J)

She don't wanna hit the J (she don't wanna hit the J)

She don't wanna hit the J (she don't wanna hit it)

Now she don't wanna hit the J

All these ******* in my face, I'm blowing up

And when I'm stepping in the place, we be pouring up

Fourteen bottles of Ace, models showing up

I tell her homie break that down, and we gon' roll it up

It's Friday and she ain't got shit to do

And we ain't got shit to do

So umm, what's good with you?

Smoke a little, talk a little, roll that up

Girl twist that J, remind me of my nigga Rondo

She ain't trying to hit that J

Different J's, different lokes

Different days, different strokes

I smoke that shit that made Arnold and Willis broke

You know my lifestyle, swishers and them Lifestyles

******* in the white house, red Camaro piped out

I'll be iced out, my blunts be packed in

I'll smoke them till it's no more, I'm like the pack ten

I'm 'bout to pack ten ******* with them accents

Man we 'bout to pack twelve swishers in that black Benz

That Harry Potter, that Mary Jane

That OG kush, that sour diesel drive them girls insane

I roll it up, she disappear like David Blaine

And she ain't try to book a flight on that paper plane

Cause she don't wanna hit the J (she don't wanna hit the J)

She don't wanna hit the J (she don't wanna hit the J)

She don't wanna hit the J (she don't wanna hit it)

Now she don't wanna hit the J

Two puffs, two verses. That's all you get Nigga!

And stop mean mugging mother****er!