2 Chainz and Lil Wayne - Long Story Short
(Oh-oh-oh, oh, baby)(Don't leave, don't leave, baby)
This life gon' be the death of me
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip (blunt)
Blunt to my lips, gun on my (blunt, blunt)
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Wake up, light the blunt I put out 'fore I fell asleep
My bitch look like she Cherokee, my crib look like I'm sellin' ki's
My dick feel like some therapy, 'bout that life, I guarantee
You livin' life vicariously, this life gon' be the death of me
And she don't care where I skeet, hit that ho from hair to feet
She walk out here, she wearin' me, I talk my shit, she smellin' me
And all I hear is jealousy, I call them niggas jelly beans
Love my trigger finger so much, I bought it a wedding ring, yeah
Yeah, let's get married
Cut off his head and the rest get buried
Cross on my head like a Presbyterian
Tell him he dead and upset his parents
Tears get shed only if you carin'
Right on his head, see the red beam glarin'
Two twelve gauges like twenty four karats, hol' up
Ain't that a bitch? I might bang at your bitch
If I go at her neck, I'ma hang that lil' bitch
Scope on the TEC and it came with that shit
I can hit you up from any range with that bitch
Got papers on Draco, a case in Laredo
You fuck with me wrong, I'ma bake your potato
I twist his halo just like a tornado
Pull out the toast, I'm like, "Leggo my Eggo"
I buss down Quaalude, fuck on a gay ho
Can't find a straight a ho but I ain't complainin'
Ask how my day go, I said, "Okay, ho"
I been on my J.O, I'm Ben and she JLo
She been to Barbados, I take her to Caicos
All of this bread and she can't get a bagel
All of that said, I can't really stay though
I hop in the Lamb' and crank it like Fabo, I'm gone
Wake up, light the blunt up, put out 'fore I fell asleep
My bitch look like she Cherokee, my crib look like I'm sellin' ki's
My dick feel like some therapy, 'bout that life, I guarantee
You livin' life vicariously, this life gon' be the death of me
I make you cum, you cannot leave, I drown my heart in kerosene
A+ off in parenting, get my kids damn near everything
'Fore you get a wedding ring, better get her ass a belly ring
Soon as I start trappin', man, my phone it wouldn't even barely ring
I don't compete, but you can't compete
Plain Jane, Patek Phillippe
Out with my lady, we came to eat
My stomach, you think that it changed the beat
We on a date, make it rain some ones
Didn't want no chain, but the chains gon' come
Soon as I say it, it's said and done
And my screensaver my favorite gun
I'm rockin', I'm swervin'
I'm poppin', detergent
Get money, it's urgent
God bless her surgeon
I rub my hands, Birdman
Double cup, lean head
I done been the weed man
It's a blessing you ain't dead
I keep it rollin' like parplegic
I'm better, believe it, you better believe it
Ho bitin' on my like every mosquito
I'm wearin' shades, think I'm starin' at people
I did the math and ain't no way we equal
Did Collegrove 2 and so this is the sequel, hm, hm
Did Collegrove 2 and so this is the sequel
Wake up, light the blunt up, put out 'fore I fell asleep
My bitch look like she Cherokee, my crib look like I'm sellin' ki's
My dick feel like some therapy, 'bout that life, I guarantee
You livin' life vicariously, this life gon' be the death of me
Blunt
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Blunt to my lips, gun on my (blunt, blunt)
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip (blunt, blunt)
This life gon' be the death of me
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip (blunt)
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Blunt to my lips, gun on my (blunt, blunt)
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip (blunt)
This life gon' be the death of me
Written by:
Tauheed Epps, Patrick Houston, Iris Gordy, Elgie Stover, Paul Beauregard, Dwayne Carter, Marvin Gaye, Justin Lewis Scott, Jordan Michael Houston, Byron O Thomas, Anna Gaye
Publisher:
Lyrics © Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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