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Collard Greens (WWW.RYBA.LT)

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Uh uh, yo yaOh (oh) luxury

Chidi-ching-ching could buy anything, cop that

Oh (oh) collard greens

Three degrees low, make it hot for me, drop that

Oh (oh) down with the shit

King shit, smoke this, get down with the shit, aye

Oh (oh) down with the shit

This, that, pop this down with the shitSmoke this, drink this

Straight to my liver

Watch this, no tick

Yeah, I'm the nigga

Gang rap, X-mas

Smoke, shots out the liver

Faded, Vegas

Might sponsor the killer, shit

Shake it, break it

Hot hot for the winter

Drop it, cop it

Eyes locked on your inner object

Rock it, blast-blast, new beginnings

Lovely, pinky how not I remember fiending,

Gimme, gimme, gimme some

Freak the freckles off your face

Frenchy, freaking, swapping tongue

Click my link and spread your buns

Loose your denim, make it numb

Blow it baby, no Saddam

Icky, icky, icky uh

Fucking in the car service

Thank me for the car pool

Chromosome, part full

Prolly off a Norco

And gas, not the Arco

Popping since the intro

You shopping from the window

Play my favorite tempoOh (oh) luxury

Chidi-ching-ching could buy anything, cop that

Oh (oh) collard greens

Three degrees low, make it hot for me, drop that

Oh (oh) down with the shit

King shit, smoke this, get down with the shit, aye

Oh (oh) down with the shit

This, that, pop this down with the shitHold up, biatch!

This your favorite song

Translation, Ven aqui

Mami, asi culo

Tu quiero coger mi huevos

Y papi molestes pero

Chuparse puto pendejo

El pinche cabron, let's get it

Nights like this I'mma knight like this

Sword in my hand, I fight like this

I am more than a man, I'm a God

Bitch, touche, en garde

Toupée drop and her two tits pop

Out of that tank top and bra

And when I say "Doo doo doo doo!"

Bitch, that be K. Dot

She want some more of this

I give her more of this, I owe her this

In fact, I know she miss the way I floored this, I'm forgis

I know my Houston partners drop a four on this, and focus

And slow it down (down)

Alright let me blow this bitch I'm famous, I blame this, on you

Cash in the mirror

Hang in my penthouse roof

Skyline the clearest

Watch it, your optics

Popping out, you look the weirdest

Pop my top on the 1-0-5

Head with no power steering, ah!Oh (oh) luxury

Chidi-ching-ching could buy anything, cop that

Oh (oh) collard greens

Three degrees low, make it hot for me, drop that

Oh (oh) down with the shit

King shit, smoke this, get down with the shit, aye

Oh (oh) down with the shit

This, that, pop this down with the shitBummy nigga famous, straight from the bottom

Broke niggas hate it, still never robbed 'em

Guns in the basement, out they have a problem

Kush be my fragrance, we love marijuana

Function on fire, burn the roof off this motherfucker

Psych ward is ballin', dope craze like no other

Weed steady blowing, pass the blunt to my Mama

Runs in the family, puff-puff keep a nigga fiendin' uh

Faded faded faded right

Shot glass super size, she gon' get some dick tonight

Meet me at the W, and no its not the westside

Stick it up ya south side (Icky icky icky ooh)

Baller futuristic, groovy gangsta with an attitude

What these niggas make a year, I spend that on my daughter shoes

Smoking weed and drinking, all the college students loving Q

We gon' turn it out until the neighbors wanna party tooOh (oh) luxury

Chidi-ching-ching could buy anything, cop that

Oh (oh) collard greens

Three degrees low, make it hot for me, drop that

Oh (oh) down with the shit

King shit, smoke this, get down with the shit, aye

Oh (oh) down with the shit

This, that, pop this down with the shit aye (oh)

Songwriters

QUINCEY HANLEY, AXEL MORGAN, KENDRICK LAMAR, RICCI RIERA, GWEN BUNNPublished by

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc. Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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