Drive Slow / Taste Like Heaven

Yeah
 Bunta-bunta-bunta-bunt-bunta-bunta-bunt(ha-ha)
 My grandfather used to tell me like
 The good die young, everything he said proven
 Ever since Del died, they got my head ruined
 My prayers go out to his loved ones, I'm sittin' here fucked up
 Can't remember the last thing that I said to him, man this shit crazy
 Wasn't the closest, nah, but every meet was special
 Got me recruitin' shit, we almost shared a team together
 Worked on our jumper, cone drills, we shared our dream together
 And now that nigga gone, but I mean whatever
 Not a disrespectful whatever, more like "REASON, you never
 Made the effort, and now you preachin' that he's special'"
 Touché, those hypocritical lies
 These my thoughts while in traffic, takin' off my nigga tie
 It's been a long day, but tomorrow I'm paid
 Been slavin' and workin' hard, prayin' I get a raise
 This that drive slow music
 In traffic textin' bitches from your iPhone music
 You text, you wanna see her, she like, "I know stupid"
 Instantly you think about how loud
 She be screamin' when you diggin' her out
 You in the hood, you could've been plottin' how to get out
 But you text your address, now her nigga in route
 So drive slow, you never know (drive slow, drive)
 Cause nowadays hitches fuck niggas to get some dough (drive, drive)
 And everybody itching to figure a way to blow
 As long as you chasing money you won't lose a single hoe, my nigga
 Drive slow
 (Drive slow, drive slow, drive slow)
 Look, you never know, homie, about these hoes, homie
 You need to pump your brakes nigga
 Free my nigga Fonz, he taught me this rap shit at an early age
 The pressure from it can send you into an early grave
 Be dead tired tryna make a living from it
 Get the little things, take it and get bigger from it
 Niggas runnin' the game with catchy
 Beats and labels that don't do shit
 Put every dollar behind it to push your new shit
 Praying the right night hear it to make a couple of bands
 I swear this shit feel like it's higher stakes than Ruth's Chris
 And label beatings like you know that I'm spitting
 I know that they listen, they know every lyric, and they respond like
 "REASON, dye your hair, they gotta know that you different"
 I know my presence lacking but you know that I'm gifted
 I'm tryna kill these niggas
 My name should be ringin', I need that bell from niggas
 But being real, I don't put enough to myself here
 Gotta figure out a way to make music they wanna play
 'Cause niggas quit their dreams everyday and press play
 And drive slow, you never know (drive slow, drive)
 Cause nowadays hitches fuck niggas to get some dough (drive, drive)
 And everybody itching to figure a way to blow
 As long as you chasing money you won't lose a single hoe, my nigga
 Drive slow
 (Drive slow, drive slow, drive slow)
 Look, you never know, homie, about these hoes, homie
 You need to
 Take 'em to church
 Whoo-hoo-hoo
 Gettin' out on a Sunday, it's so sweet (so, so, so, so)
 Tastes like a little bit of heaven
 Whoo-hoo-hoo
 Gettin' out on a Sunday, it's so sweet baby (so soulful, so soulful)
 Tastes like a little bit of heaven
 Look, what you know 'bout bein' the
 Coldest nigga killin' shit filled with gold
 And everything you said was platinum, but ain't no records sold
 Been tryna get my name a ring (a ring) but ain't no one proposed
 I swear that nigga you've been waitin' for right under your nose
 Look I've been doing a lotta thinkin' homie
 Wish I had a dollar for every time niggas was sleepin' on me (snooze)
 No new friends, no, no, no, no, last thing I need is homies
 Cause my crew tighter than virgin pussy
 Lately been curvin' groupies and bitches I
 Wanted to toss me ass now they throwin' pussy
 Man that shit crazy, look, my girl don't want me to catch stacks
 When every move can change your life, then every step's a death trap
 Niggas claim they flow is nice
 But nigga I'm screamin' let's test that
 'Cause I swear I don't believe these niggas
 Be anything in the world, but I don't wanna be these niggas
 I make my music for the streets, I'm tryna reach these niggas
 Hey you be my family tree and I can't leave my niggas, that's leavin' tree
 Best out, shit you could bet that, uh
 Mil huntin'
 Comin' after meals like wet naps, work too hard to be set back
 From rookie Kobe air ballin' to
 Becomin' nicer than Paul Pierce with a step back
 So limits, we gon' test that
 They gotta know we were sent here to be kings
 They gotta know we
 [Yo, yo, P, I think this is the spot
 Think this is the spot. Pass me that real quick
 (Oh this definitely the spot
 They got strobe lights out here? Flo got us at the disco)
 Nigga, it's some bitches at this one. I can't wait
 (Look at the disco nigga. This nigga IT was dancin' on niggas.)
 Fuck IT, this shit does look lit out here
 Let me throw my shit in the trunk too, let's go
 Yeah, yeah, P, pass me your shit- Paul
 Gimme your shit too. We'll put it all in the trunk]