2Eleven - Gas Lyrics
(Intro)I got you, homieYeaOkayWe in this *****OkayHa haDeuce!(Verse)Yea, they call me Deuce, what it do Jack?Far from a new Jack, this game like rouletteYour mixtape trash, a hoe mother*****in crew atShe spin on that chain, I’m with the foxfill and blew thatShe wanna know what kind of vehicle I’m whippin inI’m picture-perfect in this mother*****in Instagram50 band, pounds signed no filterCall that ambulance for the beat cuz I killed itUh, my ensemble’s true religionGot a Puerto Rican with me and she truly with itIf we talkin bout some money well I truly get itEveryday I’m hustling, stack it to the ceiling(Hook)Uh, I’m blowin gas, propaneShe let me hit it the first night, no shameI told that hoe my time is money like an AudemarAlways on the grind with it just to keep from fallin off(Interlude)***** em, ***** emLike I said, babyTime is money like an AudemarOffshore to be exactOn the set though, let me hit that one timeTurn back up on these niggasIt’s only low such as reality up thereDeuce!(Verse)Gasoline blowin straight up out of BaghdadSippin lean got a nigga feelin jetlagFirst you go and get that money then respect and powerAnd turn around and run rap, Kevin LawsI’mma ball the ***** out til they come for usIn a fresh pair of shells like a marker usThey say you only live once, YOLOThat’s probably why I *****ed around and went soloInstrumental serial killer murder for the hireSet the studio on fire and posted on this as 50Play the villain in the C Line, my niggas that’s from the 50’sGot a room up at the W, down to take it with meOn a road to riches, I’m flyin to go and get itTake yomother*****in life, I’m tryna run nigga thoughLouie aviators, lookin like some pilotsSay it’s just half what the writers saySay we come through like a tidal waveCountin paper like I’m readin through a text bookLivin like a athlete, neighbors think I’m westbrookTravelled all around the world, never been to OcklahomaBustin disappearin act on er, hocus pocusUh, I swagged out in these FeragamasMack that ***** out like I’m Rocky MarcianoPull up to the grey stone in the MaseratiWith some white girls with me and they just wanna partyI pop the bottle and they popin mollyThen it’s back to the spot for the afterpartyI start a riot, burn it down just like a fincoSurfer then a rapper like I’m smoking on a eggrollAnd nigga ***** what the haters thinlThey see me laughin outloud, straight to the bankMoneymaking, all these hoes in the catfightPeople don’t ***** with me, all the flights
