Lyrics Mescaline Leaves (feat. Meyhem Lauren) - Lord Sko

Yeah, yeah, uh
Ain't nothing like summer in New York
Top down with my shirt off
Feelin' glorious (What else?)
We cop fast cars but drive 'em slow
I ain't tryna race though

Ayo four phones, five homes, six hundred clones
Head cracked, the final maneuver is break your bones
Like a dissected loosie, directing truthfully
Fall back, salute me, y'all niggas goofy
Clutch the heater, keep a steamer for a steamer
Iced out like Mookie and Tina pushin' a Beamer
Intricate with it, infinite ticket
The ride ain't ever ending, y'all niggas can keep pretending
But you not one of the ones, like most of my duns we different
When writing raps reminiscing on packs was flippin'
Getting chicken, extended clippings just my background
My favorite city ain't a city that you lack 'round
Seen shooters be right back after they back down
Only motion, no emotion
Word to mommy, I dip my body in every ocean
Catch me floating, coast to coastin', we coastin'

Summertime with it, out my mind with it
Still on the grind with it, sip a little wine with it
Half an acid tab, tryna find my mind in it
Could make a hundred K, double up in five minutes
Summertime with it, out my mind with it
Still on the grind with it, sip a little wine with it
Half an acid tab, tryna find my mind in it
Could make a hundred K, double up in five minutes

Teardrops in the bucket, fuck it, the weed burning
I'm not a rapper or a real person
Just a figment of imagination, pass the haze
While I stand on broken glass in the back of alleyways
Sixteen sticks of cancer in my lung
Money dirty so I got attorneys handling my funds
Light the blunt up when I'm drunk just to ramble with the dutch
Flying stripper bitches up out of Atlanta for the month
I'm T-Mac with the handle in the clutch
Tryna make it out my city, rocking sandals in the sun
For real, I take a second to breathe
A lot of y'all favorite rappers come in second to me
I got bitches down in Chelsea rolling mescaline leaves
Rockin' thousand dollar pants, still distressing the jeans
Throw the folding chair at you like Sabu
Me and Mey at the table with a plate of that Ragu
Catch twenty-two past Bellevue
Can't recall ever asking the shit they telling you
Fucking four hoes, two of 'em identicals
No exceptions to the rule, the kid exceptional
Yeah

Summertime with it, out my mind with it
Still on the grind with it, sip a little wine with it
Summertime with it, out my mind with it
Still on the grind with it, sip a little wine with it