Well Fare - Blu, Thurz, Casey Veggies

This is what happen when the planet gets to rapping

And your woman gets to asking for them needs, needs, needs

A little, sugar and cinnamon

Your panties what I’m swimming in, wetness around my peninsula

Her and her woman friend captain, navigate like Morgan til the morning

And the, Henny was empty, Spiced rum made me sin again

It’s fun and games until feelings get involved

And with them unanswered texts watch how craziness evolves

Until she falls out of position with all the bitches

Knowing I’m a skinny family guy, on my Peter Griffin

Ass fat and dumb as well, who wouldn’t want to stick in it?

She craving wood to fall between her thighs like Timber, land

Step in terrains, I hash swayed in the rain

Fucked up my steez, a sidepiece trying to be my main dang

Went cold turkey on her, threatened my name

Saying she hope I die, that Al-Qaeda blow up my plane

I’m glad I came, but not in ya, I have the wants of a sinner

But for your needs, I’m an Indian giver

Either she love me or she hate, either way she crazy

Rumor had it, the chick had to pay me just to date me

She kept me on repeat, but she could never play me

Thinking just because I beat I’ma give your ass a baby?

Baby listen, takes one in a million to be my lady

Let alone what I put in a song could never make me put the smash on your mash

potatoes

It’s all gravy, tell a nigga like a bitch with Clippers, you can’t fade me

Hit the barber for the taper, 'fore I call Tracy

Now my ex wanna trace my steps like Dick Tracy

Chill on the pills love, you think I’m dicking Tracy?

She sounded out that M and M, Slim Shady

Bitch you been broke, I get paid for days that I been poor

Ask bails and cats outta jail, what you been for?

Even though I’m pimping you won’t find me with no bimbo

Plus you know I can’t hear your ass once I close that Benz door, So

Um.

yeah

She stuck in that material complex, reaching all in my pockets

Shawty making my arms stretch

Like I be hearing you rapping bout that already on shit

And I don’t know where you headed or where your mind be going

Word

Bands’ll make her dance, but make her submit a plan

Mama was drinking white, I was off that tan

She like «I know you 19, on your grown man»

Pay for rent for my momma, let her hold bands

Niggas is just fans, girl you should fuck with me

Long as you comfort me, we can live comfortably

I shop at Louis V, quite occasionally

Custom Damier wallet and it say CV

I’m on that fly shit, my car ride quick

I spit that shit that boost a young nigga confidence

Just ride with me, die with me, don’t be talking shit

Yeah.

and it’s all legit