Songtext Blue sky Chubby Jag

Blue sky

Can you help me find my way back
I don't know where I'm going now
And all the shit we're blowing down
All this henny going around
All my niggers with me turn
I got the hottest show going around
Feel like home coming all howl
We got it going down
I'm like
Why tell them niggers
Niggas knew your odds
I guess snitching is a gig you gotta do your job
I keep my talking short yup I stay on my lonely
I was born by myself can't wait on my homies
You got your last hundred you just hope it last you
Running out of options homie, running all your past dues
That funny feeling when you see that 'cedes pass you
All that money got you going nuts so cash you
I got my army on stand by wait for the captain
Funny how I happen to make it make it happen
I ain't fall off I chose to stay to the rappin'
It's like if you a gun to shoot just stay to the clapping
I got enough cake chilling in my plus place
But you get on in line and I rarely get that duct tape
Remember when them hoes used to hit me with that stuck face
Act like she don't know me now and hit me with that fuck face
And I'm like "I know why you want it now girl"
But I'm all about my money I don't want it now girl
You really need it, I hear to take her cloning now girl
And that plain ass chain I could stone it now girl
Chubby, that's reality I be in my fiction bag
All my girls switching bag got a nigga switching jags
We used to be up in the mall ,niggas cliping tags
Now I'm in that bitch with cash hating niggas getting mad
Cashier's getting glad, cash going always do it
Cash ruins everything around me
He always knew it
I'm the nacho man ,the mula, the guapo man
For that cheese I say uu yeah macho man
Niggas used to muda cream the gelato man
My shit wet make you dipses like vato man
I'm too reckless, got the engine on my chest like a new necklace
I swear I'm too precious, I’m protected I be walking with 2 vests
And I keep an air on me like a new lexus
I blow it down , you hear me , my piff official
I shoot my gatch you hear me I grip the pistol
My clique official you hear me you pitching packs
I'm watching that chicken stacks
The bomb, I'm Mr. Missle
I'm kinda stoned off the E I'm kinda on
I make her feel like a kid ;girl ,is your mama home?
I was raised right , I ain't bringing that drama home
And the same breath I was bringing that llama home
Miles on that kill er'thing shit Osama own
Moving right out of the white house, shit Obama on
Chubby remember getting stoned off the don Pete
Watching reruns of soul training don seat
Damn, sad we had to lose another great
That shit right there is forcing me to do another tape
It ain't no place like home,it ain't no other place
Like Cali I mean I came in another state
I got my weight up ye I got my P90
You don't want it what my little goonie he grinding
Yellow stones in the bright lane 'cause he shining
In the club with the lights off and she fine
We don't add up homies that can't be calculated
I just bustin his tracks homie , ejaculating
Niggas used to sit in busters now we sit in coops
Doors lift to the sky but it's missing roofs
We running this shit nigga you running
They on me like you summon
This Chubby the new coming
Gone