Bars (RIP T)

I got bars, bars, fucking cars

Aeroplanes, deep massage

Bars, bars, fire, fire

Tell your girl I won't retire

I got bars, bars, fucking cars

Aeroplanes, deep massage

Bars, bars, fire, fire

Tell your girl I won't retire

Woo

Here I am

Flying down the street like Superman

And I won't do it but my best friend can

I won't do it but my best friend can

We got them blue jeans

Got them at Costco

She hates that blue cheese but loves Tabasco

But everybody knows that I'm your boss, yo

But everybody knows that I'm the boss though

You know I'm gonna write the words

I'm gonna play the strings

And don't forget I still fucking sing

Even on the street I was a fucking king

(Even on the street I was a fucking king)

I got bars, bars, fucking cars

Aeroplanes, deep massage

Bars, bars, fire, fire

Tell your girl I won't retire

Woo-hoo

Tokyo, drifting down the street in my sleek Volvo

Winding down my window, I let everybody know

That I bought this car with my papa's dough

Yeah, my best friend, don't need a wine glass

They love the goon sack, up here it's all class

But everybody knows that they can shake their ass

But everybody knows that they can shake their ass

I got bars, bars, fucking cars

Aeroplanes, deep massage

Bars, bars, fire, fire

Tell your girl I won't retire

I've got a feeling I'll be fine

Left it all behind

In the house up in the hill that I once called mine

Left the keys in the van from '69

To the motherfucking madhouse

(King T vibes)

I got bitches

Bitches

Bitches

And I got

I got bars, bars, fucking cars

Aeroplanes, deep massage

Bars, bars, fire, fire

Tell your girl I won't retire

Woo

Here I am

Flying down the street like Superman

And I won't do it but my best friend can

I won't do it but my best friend can

RIP to the BOG

Footy MVP

Yeah, the big King T

We'll miss you so much

We love you, T