verse 1:
Man I live up in B.R
Ima die up in B.R
I got shit to do today so I cant die until tomorrow
I done stole a bag of dro Im gettin high til tomorrow
Nigga play with me right now im bussin nine til tomorrow
My shit got a bad motor i aint promised til tomorrow
so as long as I got gas ima drive it til tomorrow
lookin for a bitch thats bad so we can act until tomorrow
put that hoe up on this dro and beat that ass until tomorrow
Baby momma ass just gonna be mad until tomorrow
me and boosie rollin guards and acting bad til tomorrow
how bout we get pessy drunk and then stagger until tomorrow
yo bitch tight, I wantta me borrow her, let me have her til tomorrow
dont give a fuck about who smellin when its comin out ya car
Im inhalin and exhalin gettin blunted til tomorrow
lets go posted up at the spot and make some change til tomorrow
if im laid shit i might do the same thang tomorrow

chorus: (x4)
Laid way back behind black gettin blowed
full of high dro and you can smell it on my clothes

verse 2:
I was spose to go drop my red bone off or not
for some fit she trynna cop said she need right now
what had happen was I had stopped by my nigga B spot and he had a big blunt of that dro and I forgot
I was spose to go to the studio I got some hits to drop
but a bitch had hit me on the phone and told me to come pick her up
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/TUygcuz how she fuck my dick got hard
she tellin me how she so wide
she took those draws off and I forgot
went to check the mailbox
some sepeana from the mothafucka
tellin me my court date in 2 weeks for beatin on my older woman
showed up at that hoe apartment
smokin somethin ran into her
put it in her mouth and told her to drop it

chorus: (x4)

verse 3:
When I walk up in the mall with that big ass stack
fresh kicks fresh boes with the jersey to match
you know I got to do it big nigga give me the hat
manager comin out the back cuz all he smell is that dro
when I go and see my hoes my eyes be all low
my clothes be full of smoke they mommas be knowin Im blown
them ghetto mommas dont trip they askin you got some mo
let her momma hit the dro and she smell is that dro
when I hit the club they can tell
cuz Im puttin it in the air
hoes ask can they hit niggas askin is it for sale
security dont be trippin they be puttin in tne air
when you in here thats all you smell high dro is what we smokin
when we be

chorus: (x4)