Vacation

Yeah, yeah
Half-A-Mill, uh-huh

Word, Eastwest
It's one of them days man

Just feel like breakin' out on shit, nah'mean?
Fuck the keys, fuck the coke, fuck the hoes
You know what I mean?
Nah, you gotta take some hoes with you, though
(That's true, that's true)
You know what I'm sayin', you might end up in Paris and shit
Aruba, Rio, you know
(That's a vacation)
That real Willie shit
(Yeah)

Yo they ask me, how I got so hard
I rock Wallabees and Scotland Yard
Eat Ital food, Selassie, our God
Drink herb tea, sarsaparilla

Half-A-Milla, take you on a rap adventure
Be cautious how you spit my rhymes, it might crack your dentures
My rap is ill as the Donald Goines literature
Sinister, menace, far from a minister

In this to win this, swallow bottles of Guinness down in Venice

Smoke a pound of that spinach, 'til the ground is spinnin'
Walk around in linen, green lizard, Slytherin
No beginning, no ending, no make believe, no pretending
I bake cake sweet and blaze 'em in the street
Executive thug, my salary's steep, I carry the heat
Remove the gravity from your feet, you cavity creep
I hang you high and bury you deep, forever you sleep
I chop the head off of the weak
And sail off on a yacht and get lost for several weeks
Batman move in silence, that's why I never speak

Shit is deep, shit is real
Sometimes I just wanna get away, fly to an island and chill
Shit is deep, shit is real
Sometimes I wanna put down the steel
And say motherfuck them dollar bills
Shit is deep, shit is real
Sometimes I just wanna get away, fly to an island and chill
Shit is deep, shit is real
Sometimes I wanna put down the steel
And say motherfuck them dollar bills

Eatin' mangos with my main hoes
Went from bankrolls to bank loads

Scrapin' the globe in a stank Rolls
Steppin' out the shower in a mink robe
Flower like Duncan Hines
Come for mine and I'm buckin' the nines
Sometimes I wanna just leave this life behind
Take a vacation that's right for the mind
Relax my muscles, relax from the hustle
Miles away from cats that wanna bust you
Miles away from the struggle, that's how it be
Weather like a hundred degrees

Pineapple juice under the trees
Purple haze wrapped in the leaves
Foot massages by them Caribbean queens, nah'mean?
Pretty thug theme, clear blue water like I'm marine
Watchin' videos on the eighty inch sub screen

Touch cream, it's like every thug's dream, nothin' between

Shit is deep, shit is real
Sometimes I just wanna get away, fly to an island and chill
Shit is deep, shit is real
Sometimes I wanna put down the steel
And say motherfuck them dollar bills
Shit is deep, shit is real
Sometimes I just wanna get away, fly to an island and chill
Shit is deep, shit is real
Sometimes I wanna put down the steel
And say motherfuck them dollar bills

Sippin' on Dom, watchin' chicks strip to they thongs

Skinny dippin' with the women 'cause my Benjamins long

Swimmin' with swans, hit my cell, won't get no response

Two-way me, I won't reply, what the fuck y'all niggas want?
I took a vacation from Manhattan, Brooklyn and the Bronx
Got my mind right, clear some thoughts
For years holdin' fort, no remorse
No love for you haters, don't floss
You know what it cost, smokin' opium in a Porsche

Payin' a cat just to drive me around and open the doors
I was supposed to score like R. Kelly, I can soar
I believe I can fly, without the Henny or lye
Bling like it ain't a thing, wings on the 850i
Vehicle king, lay back in Rio and things
And I ain't worried 'bout them kilos
Or the c-notes that the streets hold
Game is to be sold, not to be told
I'm slicker than Wallabee slippers, from poverty to pro, you know?

Shit is deep, shit is real
Sometimes I just wanna get away, fly to an island and chill
Shit is deep, shit is real
Sometimes I wanna put down the steel
And say motherfuck them dollar bills
Shit is deep, shit is real
Sometimes I just wanna get away, fly to an island and chill
Shit is deep, shit is real
Sometimes I wanna put down the steel
And say motherfuck them dollar bills

You know what I mean?
Eastwest, North, South
Yeah, Half-A-Milli, y'all
DJ I, DJ Styles
Take a vacation, son