Chain Smoker Lyrics

Still a chain smoking

Name dropping

Good looking

Muh fucking

Motha, shut your mouth

Brain broken

Frank Ocean listening

Stain hitting, satin woodgrain gripping

Paint dripping

Motha, shut your mouth

Somebody pray for the guy, oh lord

I wonder what might goes on

Somethin jammin know we share

A rappin trappin trippin sinnin

Slipping fluent chewing Vicodin

Shoulda died- yelling YOLO was a lie

And you a liar wonder why you wanna die so young

You and I look just alike

And Im afraid that this one right here

Might be the last time that I write a song

Lot of niggas wanna go out with a bang

But I aint tryna go out at all

So I aint tryna go out the door

Got a lot of ideas coulda throw out the door

Last chance joint gotta be a dance joint

From an introspective drugged out standpoint

Throw vans joint, wanna hold hands joint

Old school for my old lone man joint

Still a chain smoking

Name dropping

Good looking

Muh fucking

Motha, shut your mouth

Brain broken

Frank Ocean listening

Stain hitting, satin woodgrain gripping

Paint dripping

Motha, shut your mouth

This part right here, right now

Right here, this part my shit

I play this so loud in the Corrad

Forget to park my whip

I lean back, then spark my shit

I turn up, I talk my shit

Hope you love all of my shit

I hope you love all of my shit (IGH)

Why toss my filter when she saved my life?

The same shit that kills us, always feels so right

Thats why I pray to the dear lord

God know who he be

Truth be told he juiced me

Introduced me to the lucy leaf

Oh oh oh, I seen the light, I lost my lighter

Big flip, kick to heaven and the bucket, fuck your supplier

Lies, Levis on fire

Flyer on the wall Im brighter

In the darkness of the night

In the sky I get higher, higher

Still a chain smoking

Name dropping

Good looking

Muh fucking

Motha, shut your mouth

Brain broken

Frank Ocean listening

Stain hitting, satin woodgrain gripping

Paint dripping

Motha, shut your mouth

This part right here, right now

Right here, this part my shit

I play this so loud in the Corrad

Forget to park my whip

I lean back, then spark my shit

I turn up, I talk my shit

Hope you love all of my shit

I hope you love all of my shit (IGH)

Still a chain smoking

Name dropping

Good looking

Muh fucking

Motha, shut your mouth

Brain broken

Frank Ocean listening

Stain hitting, satin woodgrain gripping

Paint dripping

Motha, shut your mouth