Chains on they fingers and wrist I'm in the 86,
Lake is yours
First class,
thirsty ass broads,
looking as they pass
I got cash on the dash,
next to whiskey I'm busy writing death poems,
it's like cocaine
Lake's a world,
Lake's a world,
Lake's a world,
Lake's a world
I served my bird to the chef for Roxbury It was 96,
Sunset Strip,
Stocksbury
I was VIP with Ronnie and Scruggs We had it poppin',
had bottles, had blow,
had smoke
