Released: May 17, 2010
Songwriter: JID
Producer: Patrick Collier
[Intro]
(Grade A, Grade A, Grade A)
Take a bitch shoulder
Finna introduce y'all to Lil Reuben
AKA Mr. G6, G Swig, me swig
Talk to ’em bro
[Verse 1]
Nigga, I'm clean as in detergent
Stunting on purpose
Throw out on some cocky shit, nigga I'm perfect
Pussy, you peep it, the red, black, green shit
Marc Jacob glasses ’cause I'm e-classic
(This is a Tay James exclusive)
Fly so classic, pocket full of plastic
Getting active with a actress who loves shagging
Magnums, baggage, Louis, ooh
He fruity, stupid
Jury on, taking pictures with a groupie
I move smoothly into the club like what the fuck up
Bars getting bought by me and I'm bout to roll up
So what's the hold up?
And there ain't enough liquor in this club
For me to intoxicate a female
You gotta give it up
Tell her tricks alive, so she believe
Just enough to do exactly what I say
When I'm about to catch my nut
But my money on, my money is extra on
And if you ain't getting paper, this is not where you belong
The life I'm living, rockstar bitch (Fly rockstar bitch)
Carseat and hash ’cause I sparked up
Retarded stacks, I’m heat balling
Display in the clutch, I'm Chris Paul-ing (Bake)
’Cause he balling and everybody know it
It's lit in the club, plus everybody smoking
Everybody drinking, psyched out, choking
Money in my pocket and everybody knows it
So what's frozen, the neck or the G Shock
The kush green diamonds, the necklace is on detox
Shawtie look bad, maybe I could hit her g-spot
Her man look lame, a bugle boy, he's the Rebox
3 shots down the drain and I’m rolling
Where the fucking waitress at, with my potion?
'Cause this potent, mixed with this potion
Could have a nigga dazed for days and I ain't joking
If it ain't the purple haze or blaze, they ain't smoking
I don't do the mid by kid, I hate choking
Focus, back to me, myself, I
Little room, dressing room, the kid remains fly
I'm doing my thing, I am truly insane
Try to play me in vain, I'm removing your brain (Haha)
[Interlude 1]
You gotta go man
For real bro, go in bro
Alright
Go in bro, show 'em what time it is
Chill, chill
[Verse 2]
I got the respect from the hood, the hood from respect
That's why whenever they make a move I be at they neck
I feel so analystic, statistics analyzed
That's why my percentages come correct when baking pies
Making it, take it live
I fuck a bitch, kill a guy
Nigga just give me the bird and the boss is taking mine
But slut, I'm on my grind like sex work
That's why she hang off my every word like tax work
Call me Mr. Mister, fucked her with her sister
Tell the boy to roll the gun and go buy my elixir
Dranking little sips, that's why I got temper
Problems, I'll probably murk them as soon as they enter
A hot-boy, hot-boy, but colder than the winter
Wood grain, hood lane, touch it get a splinter
I am just a winner, an easy bullet lender
You can have it, you can have it, nigga go hit her
[Interlude 2]
Grade A, gangster
These niggas starvin' now
Murder everything now
That's lil' roof
It's lil' somethin', you feel me? I'm out here
So I'm bouta go, I'ma talk about bitches
What I tell a bitch?
Go bruh, lay it on
Nigga, shit
[Verse 3]
Might shed the amor, this door awaits
Waits to see how many whores this floor can take
Fate is victim to take place in times erased
Taste is remember to spread the love all over your face, face
I come from flyness, I'm fly as a pilot
No style, style just comes to me
'Cause if the shirt match the shoes
And the shoes match everything I got on
Then bitches, they just come do me
And I'm back up on the track like your ass right?
You niggas think you could have the fucking last laugh (Nah)
I'm in the black jack, blood cock, black ass
Shoot him in the head and now the nigga dead
Black bag
[Outro]
(Grade A, grade A, grade A)
That's all I gotta say
Like I told them bruh
It's the monster, aka Mr. fancy swag
This man right here and I am KC
These are your soldiers
We take it here, we don't lie
We got him, we got him
And my lil' bruh, he tearing this shit apart
Lil, lil boy, lil' boy
Fuck niggas taking over the station
Wow
And we the flyest niggas doing this shit, man
See over here, see them, them
Hey, like I said
This man, JID, goddamn, we boys around
Crush all you fuck niggas, fuck nigga
Fuck with us, fuck nigga
I'll say anything, check the chain
Check the wrist, check the feet
Goddamn
Hey what it do, it's your man Rosco
Now, you're tuning into the sound of DJ James, man
(Grade A, Grade A, Grade A)
Take a bitch shoulder
Finna introduce y'all to Lil Reuben
AKA Mr. G6, G Swig, me swig
Talk to ’em bro
[Verse 1]
Nigga, I'm clean as in detergent
Stunting on purpose
Throw out on some cocky shit, nigga I'm perfect
Pussy, you peep it, the red, black, green shit
Marc Jacob glasses ’cause I'm e-classic
(This is a Tay James exclusive)
Fly so classic, pocket full of plastic
Getting active with a actress who loves shagging
Magnums, baggage, Louis, ooh
He fruity, stupid
Jury on, taking pictures with a groupie
I move smoothly into the club like what the fuck up
Bars getting bought by me and I'm bout to roll up
So what's the hold up?
And there ain't enough liquor in this club
For me to intoxicate a female
You gotta give it up
Tell her tricks alive, so she believe
Just enough to do exactly what I say
When I'm about to catch my nut
But my money on, my money is extra on
And if you ain't getting paper, this is not where you belong
The life I'm living, rockstar bitch (Fly rockstar bitch)
Carseat and hash ’cause I sparked up
Retarded stacks, I’m heat balling
Display in the clutch, I'm Chris Paul-ing (Bake)
’Cause he balling and everybody know it
It's lit in the club, plus everybody smoking
Everybody drinking, psyched out, choking
Money in my pocket and everybody knows it
So what's frozen, the neck or the G Shock
The kush green diamonds, the necklace is on detox
Shawtie look bad, maybe I could hit her g-spot
Her man look lame, a bugle boy, he's the Rebox
3 shots down the drain and I’m rolling
Where the fucking waitress at, with my potion?
'Cause this potent, mixed with this potion
Could have a nigga dazed for days and I ain't joking
If it ain't the purple haze or blaze, they ain't smoking
I don't do the mid by kid, I hate choking
Focus, back to me, myself, I
Little room, dressing room, the kid remains fly
I'm doing my thing, I am truly insane
Try to play me in vain, I'm removing your brain (Haha)
[Interlude 1]
You gotta go man
For real bro, go in bro
Alright
Go in bro, show 'em what time it is
Chill, chill
[Verse 2]
I got the respect from the hood, the hood from respect
That's why whenever they make a move I be at they neck
I feel so analystic, statistics analyzed
That's why my percentages come correct when baking pies
Making it, take it live
I fuck a bitch, kill a guy
Nigga just give me the bird and the boss is taking mine
But slut, I'm on my grind like sex work
That's why she hang off my every word like tax work
Call me Mr. Mister, fucked her with her sister
Tell the boy to roll the gun and go buy my elixir
Dranking little sips, that's why I got temper
Problems, I'll probably murk them as soon as they enter
A hot-boy, hot-boy, but colder than the winter
Wood grain, hood lane, touch it get a splinter
I am just a winner, an easy bullet lender
You can have it, you can have it, nigga go hit her
[Interlude 2]
Grade A, gangster
These niggas starvin' now
Murder everything now
That's lil' roof
It's lil' somethin', you feel me? I'm out here
So I'm bouta go, I'ma talk about bitches
What I tell a bitch?
Go bruh, lay it on
Nigga, shit
[Verse 3]
Might shed the amor, this door awaits
Waits to see how many whores this floor can take
Fate is victim to take place in times erased
Taste is remember to spread the love all over your face, face
I come from flyness, I'm fly as a pilot
No style, style just comes to me
'Cause if the shirt match the shoes
And the shoes match everything I got on
Then bitches, they just come do me
And I'm back up on the track like your ass right?
You niggas think you could have the fucking last laugh (Nah)
I'm in the black jack, blood cock, black ass
Shoot him in the head and now the nigga dead
Black bag
[Outro]
(Grade A, grade A, grade A)
That's all I gotta say
Like I told them bruh
It's the monster, aka Mr. fancy swag
This man right here and I am KC
These are your soldiers
We take it here, we don't lie
We got him, we got him
And my lil' bruh, he tearing this shit apart
Lil, lil boy, lil' boy
Fuck niggas taking over the station
Wow
And we the flyest niggas doing this shit, man
See over here, see them, them
Hey, like I said
This man, JID, goddamn, we boys around
Crush all you fuck niggas, fuck nigga
Fuck with us, fuck nigga
I'll say anything, check the chain
Check the wrist, check the feet
Goddamn
Hey what it do, it's your man Rosco
Now, you're tuning into the sound of DJ James, man