Legends in the Making (Ashtray Pt. 2) - Smoke DZA, Wiz Khalifa, Curren$y

Ridin, smokin prayin'

Ridin, smokin prayin'

Ridin, smokin prayin'

We’re legends in the making

Ridin, smokin prayin'

Ridin, smokin prayin'

Ridin, smokin prayin'

We’re legends in the making

And we roll up that dour

Mo money, mo power

And we roll up that dour

Legends in the making

And we roll up that dour

Mo money, mo power

And we roll up that dour

Legends in the making

Young Khalifa winning young Khalifa winnin

Every car I’m smoking weed

Up in it, I don’t know what type of shit you on

I need at least a zip

Didn’t you hear, I say the cars I own are never leased a whip

Leather jacket, nigga muscle cars on that greaser shit

And my bandana tied, I play to ride

Live a movie so make sure the camera right

And I’m pullin up and hoppin out a mess of shit that young niggas ain’t

supposed to get

You know I’m rich

Uh!

Nigga my whole squad getting it

Practically live on the road

Doing 100 when I’m in this bitch

You know niggas kinda slow

A raw paper and some bomb weed

That lil nigga’s tryna clone me

And labels tryin to make the own me

But I’m the only one and only

Kush god, keep it rollin' like the brakes broken

That’s a little gram, little man that ain’t smoking

We move this shit, movie shit, I’m in motion

George Kush, second term and I’m still loaded

Yo bitch on me, all over my

I’m in the bay, smoking on King Henry

On that YO, retro haze but SP

I don’t search for trees, I am OG

Lil nigga your lungs ain’t strong enough to hot box with God

You ain’t got no ones and you mouthin off

Nigga knock it off, you niggas is through

Run we goin down, that’s how much we gon do

I got so much rugby, you have to start my own dude

Big face Rollie, and my mob stay smooth

Fuckin bitches, not I’m lookin like a nigga like you

I’m from Harlem

Homes where you get that weed from

Please don’t roll another one

I don’t even think that’s trees son

Bullshit, all this to show you something

Motor running, tank on F

High octane, high off the best strain

I write with my left brain

Haters face get tight when it’s set game

And them hoes know the business

Boss tight game for the ones they missin

No book, boy we handle bitches

Nigga I rap clothes off yo women

Homes, I smoke a zone in one sitting

Gold and chrome, 13 inches

Boxes on the dashboard, 16 switches

Car full of fumes, smoking that fuel

Exxon on in the ashtray of my coupe

Send her home smellin like Chevron fool

You more than whip, expectin you to

Double my money, double the crew

Triple what we smoked yesterday

Then it’s 4−20, 24/7

Spitter Andretti, Ferraris and Chevys