Текст песни Doin' My Thang (feat. Slim Sumo) - A-Lux

Yeah

Wake up on Monday, I'm doing my thing
I wake up on Tuesday and none of it changed
Luxurious Curry, I'm breaking the game
You chilling with nothing but suckers and lames
I pass it to Spoons, my homie a goon
When it comes to shooters, we got a platoon
If she bringing bitches, I'm making some room
My plug pulling up, about to go to the moon

Wake up on Monday, I'm doing my thing
I wake up on Tuesday and none of it changed
Luxurious Curry, I'm breaking the game
You chilling with nothing but suckers and lames
I pass it to Spoons, my homie a goon
When it comes to shooters, we got a platoon
If she bringing bitches, I'm making some room
My plug pulling up, about to go to the moon

Go to the moon, I'm on that Cudi shit
Don't need these posers, I ain't on that buddy shit
Hate being sober, I stay on that muddy shit
Running your mouth, well my brother we bloody it
Bought her some ice and now she be flooding me
I'm on that Tunechi, these rappers is under me
Up in her guts like a surgeon, need cutlery
Pre-diabetic like someone Jay Cutler-ed me
It's that four homies in a Regal flow
Speeding through them yellow lights
She treat my Nike belt like it's a mistletoe
Smoking hella loud out the bungalow
Got the Tity Boi in my headphones
Need a white bitch and a redbone
I make them say my name and call it Mike Jones
Mike Jones
I get her spraying like a Super Soaker
When I get her moaning and wanting my boner
I'm turning that prissy bitch into a stoner
When it come to Mary, I'm hardly a donor
I need me that money or I need some cake
I gotta get paid, bitch this is the way

Wake up on Monday, I'm doing my thing
I wake up on Tuesday and none of it changed
Luxurious Curry, I'm breaking the game
You chilling with nothing but suckers and lames
I pass it to Spoons, my homie a goon
When it comes to shooters, we got a platoon
If she bringing bitches, I'm making some room
My plug pulling up, about to go to the moon

Go to the moon, wait
Ships leaving now, can't be late
Ship full of hoes, smile on my face
Anything goes down in outer space
Many many bros go down from a case
Many of my foes taking bows to the face
Why I feel outta place? God made a mistake
A mistake God made when he made me, a human
But I'm not trippin' about it, my vision was clouded
My mission they doubted but
Used to be itching for housing
I'm sitting on thousands, waiting for a mil to come soon
This is me and not you
I cant believe I am that dude
I'm about to lap you, fuck your side chick and get a tattoo
I been going to damn hard, let me take a breather
I'm starting to not feel my face, call me Justin Bieber
Pretty strippers on my lap
40 ounce in my bag
Jesus turned water to wine, Slim brought some OJ through
Time to make a Brass Monkey
Time to get down, funky
Time to find myself a girl, chunky
She's trying to not find a man
Well I'm trynna foil that plan
Do the can-can down in San Fran
Then do a hand stand and catch me a man-tan, Sumo out

Wake up on Monday, I'm doing my thing
I wake up on Tuesday and none of it changed
Luxurious Curry, I'm breaking the game
You chilling with nothing but suckers and lames
I pass it to Spoons, my homie a goon
When it comes to shooters, we got a platoon
If she bringing bitches, I'm making some room
My plug pulling up, about to go to the moon