Song Page - Lyrify.me

Lyrify.me

Sativa by The H.A.W.G.S. Lyrics

Genre: rap | Year: 2011

[Verse 1: J-Dub]

Hit the lights & one hit til she light headed
Take a trip, Memory Lane is where her mind headed
Niggas bite, originality is mandatory
In the same room but we in a different category

Jordan shorts & some sneakers like it's game time
I'm on one but on two at the same time
One hawgin two hoes of the same kind
Side door steppin' so we never in the same line

Talk tells but I already heard the story
I see em' scopin but where's the observatory
Got me feelin like I'm walkin on the ocean floor
Niggas cheap talk but I got million dollar vocal chords

Yeah... plastic cup with some champagne
Presidential so I need her on my campaign
Polo socks & a sweater made of cashmere
I'm about as close to the money as a cashier
Until then I'm flickin' ashes til the cash here
Lifetime of goals, fit it all in the past year
Phone ringin' so I know that the cash near
Money talks, I just hopes that the cash hear


[Verse 2: B-Soopa]

Now bring it back like you left sumn'
If you horny girl txt sumn'
They lovin' me in the places where you hatin' me
I'm paid to be in the places where you pay to be

But am I wildn' if I tell this girl straight up
That I don't want relations, I just wanna smoke & lay up
Well too late cuz I already did it
Like the nigga at the job, I just work it out & quit it uh

So understand that you havin' sex wit a male
Who's only obligation is gettin' checks in the mail
But not just for him, but for him & his team
It's been a coo lil minute since they heard sumn' this clean

& everybody wants some limelight
But I'ma wait until the time's right
& girl I worked my ass off
The least you could do is take your pants off
... & I remember last year
... You wasn't here last year
... & damn that was a trash year
I'm bout to go from that, to havin' convos with the cashiers

She loaded like the magazine of a gun, She in the covers
Well at least for now that's my lover
But that girl must be insane if she really think I love her
Cuz we made it in the magazine, the next step is the cover


[Verse 3: P. Butta]

Convertin' from a simp to a pimp
Empire state of mindI ain't thinkin' shrimp
I stay high like the Empire State
Buildin' shit up so momma can be straight

Don't have time for feelins' like civilians
I chase bank because she wants millions
I'm the late night nigga that she dial up
You slow to make a connection, like dial up

My grind is ruthless, til my top roofless
I'm the answer so without me you're clueless
Different types of women like a collage
Sativa gives the mind a mental massage
Alright momma light this & lay ya head back
On twenty-one questions, I wanna see where ya head at
You want my attention? Or just some attention?
Side-note, a nigga needs some sex intervention

Quis brought some fire, I don't know if you want to listen
About the trips, the business, the bitches, the mission
As we explore up on dis' expidition
I explore ya mind, ya body, & yo intentions

She's mixed with something but she acts like a french bitch
French heels, french tips, give my dick a french kiss
I'm french fried, like an asian guy
She don't smoke, but she has asain eyes

A nigga flashy, but I'm nasty
I'm shittin' on a nigga, but nobody ass me
Baby I claim you & it's not tax season
It's just try-outs cuz it's just preseason

I swear to God I'ma be that nigga
Ain't nobody smoother, so don't believe that nigga... Butta!