Go (Gas) [feat. Wiz Khalifa, Juicy J & Tyler, The Creator]

Fucking put on a wrong head pair of headphones and shit

Uh, just took ten shots and I ain't passed out

Spent a hundred grand and I ain't cash out

If you smoking OG, bring the grass out

These **** filled up, bring the gas out

Talking bout some shit that you know you stole

I have a fucking way with this game, no remote control

Drinking on some gin cause I like alcohol

How the fuck you supposed to win, you don't know how to ball

Turnt up but still smoking

Tryna drive but my eyes barely open

See the cars, see the watch, see I done moved up

In my condo smoking out, watching True Blood

Tryna take Taco to the strip club

Tryna take Tyler to the dealer, bruh (I'm right here guys)

Tryna take Domo to the weed spot

True pothead to I need pot

Go, I'm so fucking loaded

Pockets and the smoke and all the bitches

Tell 'em

Go, faded and I'm floatin'

I hope your lungs is open

All the bitches, tell 'em, go

Now I been around the world before

But I never thought it'd be this way

And I smoked up all this weed before

But I never thought it'd feel this way

And all the bitches be like, "Yeah"

Celebration shots got me really faded

Kind of famous, enough to laugh like I really made it

Drunk enough to stir some controversy, bitch, let's fucking tape it

I feel amazing, making digits off my fucking cadence

Suck a dick, hater, while I selfie with the Eiffel Tower

Five star general, the Odd Future, I'm Eisenhower

Said I couldn't make it, I show you **** to fight the power

Igniting sour, watching Chowder in my finest hour

A clearer mix of acid jazz and blue grass

**** still stuck in the past, opening new scales

Me and Wiz matching bottles ****, open two tabs

Stumbling out with six models, my ****, order two cabs

We ain't worried about rivals, them **** too trash

Fuck what **** think, I'm the illest one in the new class

And I don't give a fuck what **** ain't fucking with

OFWG, run with the team or suck a dick

Go, I'm so fucking loaded

Pockets and the smoke and all the bitches

Tell 'em

Go, faded and I'm floatin'

I hope your lungs is open

All the bitches, tell em, go

Now I been around the world before

But I never thought it'd be this way

And I smoked up all this weed before

But I never thought it'd feel this way

And all the bitches be like, "Yeah"

Guitars sound like some Kill Bill shit, watch it

That's that church tambourine shit

My grandma used to play that

****

Golf Wang

Yes, sir, I got old money, I got new money

Put 'em together, I got huge money

Bank teller call my phone, she tell me I'm putting on

Twenty years of success, let's toast to the best

Sip on some ace then I pour out the rest

Fuck bitches, get ends

Drink gin, fuck their friends

Juicy J, three hoes in a white on white Benz

I say sipping codeine

Blue Dream, I'm rolling up

Looking for a rich bitch with bank statements like Oprah

These black diamonds racist, Louis V no laces

My plug on call coming straight up out the basement

All I know is money, it don't look like you

One shot from the chopper make you look like two

Go