Outerspace Glo

(Hollywood J)
Bang, bang, bang
Ay, ay, ay, ay

My diamonds are floating, look like slow motion
Boy, you a strudel, pull up and toast you
Hit you in yo' noodle, don't think I am boasting
You must not be eating if you think I am hungry
Slide down to Curry, got Pirelli on the tires
Try to slide down our block, then you really gonna die
How I'm flexing on these niggas, yeah, they really wanna cry
How I'm flexing on these niggas, yeah, they really wanna die

Make me hit yo' monkey ass with a arrow in the eye
Tryna run off on the plug, nigga, fuck you think you Plies?
He got hit three times, I'm like, "Ay, homie, you 'ight?"
Fuck I'm thinking, man I'm high as fuck, that boy can't reply
I took my AK, Lil Jon to the movie night
I call up Jon 'cause his ass be crunk like the movie Rize
I'm so Glo'd, I'm so fucking Glo'd, I need a movie, right?
I call Quentin Tarantino like, "Ay, name my movie 'Life'"

This that outer space glo, I wear outer space clothes
Tell me who really in, who your ho go out her way for?
This that Saturn dope, I get Saturn hoes
When you get some money, you should fuck some badder hoes

I'm sitting on Mars, smoking with Pluto
Your ho call my phone, she like, "Ay, Papi Chulo"
I don't really want none 'cause she probably call me fu though
Let my four door catch you, he gon' knockout yo' two-door
I'm like, burr, burr, burr, burr, burr, free Wop
I'm like, fuh, fuh, fuh, fuh, fuh, free shots
I'm like, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, free guap
I'm like, skrrt, skrrt, skrrt, skrrt, skrrt, free top

Give me a .50 Cal, and I am gon' go ham
You got a high point, what you think that shit ain't Gucci
Man, you's a dead boy, I bring with me the morgue
Naw, I ain't tryna race, but I bring with me the tour
How I mix the drank up, I coulda been a scientist
If my momma ain't raise me, coulda been a lying bitch
Boy, you not a scientist, boy, yo' ass science fiction
Shoulda sneak-dissed yourself, why you out here buying bitches?

In the mall with that chicken, I'm Balmaining in my religion
And my Balmains' real, thousands on 'em, thousands in 'em
They be like Chief So he steady pounding on 'em, God forgive him
He got the devil hanging with him, that's why God not rocking with him
I treat my ten-band four-wheeler like a Kawasaki
Take a step in my backyard, it's feeling like I'm in Hawaii
I'm smoking on this Tooka, that shit have me right
It got me looking Asian, shrimp fried rice