fair deal - yung god ro lyrics
[intro: hober & finndabin]
i’m so high
this is a message from mount druitt local court
judge hober has found harry not guilty of drug possession
[verse 1: yung god ro]
i’m in greenland, but it’s sunny this evening
n0body smoked as much kush as we did
best believe i bring a cushion to the meeting
best believe i brought a plus*one this evening
imagine if i never brought that sh*t to the gathering
imagine if i never bought that sh*t, how it had’ve been
but lately, i ain’t been thinkin’ too much ’bout sh*t, i just do
busted lip, but this song ain’t that hard to do
one jumbo spliff down, but i’mma do f*ckin’ two
lookin’ at the sky wondering if aliens would zoot
b*tch i’m in disguise, watchin’ every single move
how many cards do you wanna play until you lose?
[verse 2: pole joe]
gotta stomp ‘еm out
ain’t dropped in a year, had the pеople in a drought
gonna flood ’em, like my chain when my album’s out
droppin’ it on time, because i never had a doubt
murder you like [?], when you’re not on route
i’m a roman at the heart, because that’s what i’m about
[?] are made of purple, like i’m becoming the prowler
i ain’t talkin’ ’bout lean, because my taste buds make it sour
and my b*tches cowgirls, like i’m travellin’ to dallas
then i fly to okc to meet my aunty and grandparents
layover in utah, down in salt lake city
when they ask me if i’ve been here
to be honest, no, not really
it’s just a fair deal, like the titans and the eagles trading
or maybe the pats’ and the bucs’ and what they did to brady
or maybe when they sent buddy franklin down to sydney
i mean what were they expecting when the man was f*cking 50?
[verse 3: finndabin]
i’m in greenland, finna green out on a pen
i don’t care about your sob story, i be asking, “when?”
moved out with a right girl, shoot that’s all my money left
got a ski mask, like i’m plotting motherf*ckin’ stacks
wastin’ my time, always rottin’ in the f*ckin’ bed
oh man, oh f*ck, went over and hit your f*ckin’ head
drugs just k!ll my life, i like drinkin’ lead
that’s r*t*rded, that’s stupid, you a sped
countin’ up my money like a f*ckin’ spreado’
chasin’ yo’ b*tches, i’m chasin’ f*ckin’ letters and numbers
[outro: finndabin]
you probably gonna fumble yo’ b*tch
probably gon’ fumble yo’ b*tch
probably gon’ fumble yo’ b*tch, b*tch
probably gon’ fumble yo’ b*tch
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