Relaxation Lyrics - Fashawn

It's ya nigga, deep thinker, big drinker 

Late night, with ya wife in ya crib sneaker 

When you out of town, and you not around 

Turn your ass over like a nigga stepped out of bounds 

Crowd around young'n 

I got ammo and a lot of rounds coming 

Up in the streets where you not allowed, runnin' 

Got the songs bitches ride around hummin' 

And the niggas stay thumpin' 

And the hater's hate pumpin' 

Got the 808′s bumpin' 

So the trunks stay thumpin' 

And the nigga get high only on occasion and 

My mind too wild 

Damn thought weed supposed to calm you down 

But I'm so high I could palm two clouds 

Boy look, these niggas quote my lines like the Lord's book 

You niggas less rhymes more hooks 

More bucks but less love 

You hear them drums, Questlove 

No Roots, I'm so truth 

I used to rock sidelines like a coach suit 

Had to look at all them loafers, yeah them boat shoes 

Now I'm in the game but I won't boast to you dummy 

Remember niggas had short jokes for my money 

Toast to the honeys, money and the liquor 

And bitch I don't sound like any other nigga 

With my finger on the trigger 

I burn rappers like Henny on the liver 

Grant death wishes like a genie I'ma killer 

Lord giveth and he taketh like an Indian giver 

Hard to keep jimmy in zipper 

When you got them bad Aunt Vivians with ya 

Remy and weed, I got em on Pluto 

I prefer Henny but the hoes like Nuvo 

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Watch Sam Smith And Fifth Harmony Join James Corden For Carpool Karaoke 

Check, every time a nigga roll 

Old school whips and it's sitting on vogues 

Hoes on me when I enter the door 

If a nigga wanna trip, good grip on the chrome 

Empty out a clip from the fifth then I'm gone 

Twist up a spliff, get a fifth of Patron 

Hate a chick who just talk shit on the phone 

Baby I'm tryna stick, give ya dicks to ya dome, shit 

If I was you nigga I would hate him 

Hot August nights I'm out there in Vegas 

Stuntin' til time, had that patience 

Now it's big faces, fly vacations 

Alias Shawn Stacks 

Miss shows, never call back 

Blowin' Dro sippin' tall cats 

On the low had to crawl back 

Niggas wonder if it's all raps 

Or it's all facts 

Photos 

As I step in the door like Fe fi foe 

With the heat like flow and the beat typo 

Better rewrite yo, get your rhyming straight 

Get murked plus 8 like Jon and Kate 

I mean it's time for the face off 

Hit the corner like an 8 ball 

Man I concentrate like Adolf 

No time for a hater get a day job 

Me on the mind you ain't even on the radar 

Love her brain but I never been a fiend for her silly ways 

So I'm tryna get the cream til I'm silly paid 

Couldn't put her on the team, every week another reason 

To scream like Billy Mays 

Gotta grind gotta focus 

Gotta shine through the minds of the blind, lot of hopeless 

Never confined to the rhymes that I've chosen 

Omen, a sign of the times, gotta quote this