We gone do this out the summer, word to palm trees
Wipe the sweat off with them 100s, check that summer breeze
Put them Phantoms up, bring out them old school
Switch up them paint jobs, take out them old shoesWe fuck them motors, (?) my shit straight out of (?)
Pull up on me in traffic, I race you for that chick
Pull up at the red light, go
Got them (?) on the back, so the bitch sit low
Got a grand for the paint, (?) blow snow(?) like woah
Cashin' out, never cashin' in
Tired of livin' (?) in
The ho goin' crazy, fuck you pay me
Summer on the way, so why the fuck you hatin'?
And I'mma kill this summer, word to momma
And I put that on my motherfuckin' gunners, I'm a stunna
These bitches love me, they say I do too much
But I just crack a smile, bitch I don't do enough
True story, you heard it here first
And by the time the summer hit you gotta know the verse(I'mma kill this summer)
Foreign car, 911 panamera, Aston Martin, Bugatti coupe
All kinda shit(Man I'mma kill this summer)
Big diamonds, Audemar, no stones in my (?)100 grand, coulda bought a car(I'mma kill this summer)
Designer clothes, True Religion, new to Gucci
YSL, (?), on my feet(Man I'mma kill this summer)
Overseas, the UK, Dubai
Cayman Islands, Australia, (?)Biggie need that Jaguar, aka that fast car
Aka that Nascar, aka that drag car
My rap name is Young Thug
I'm taking the trade to be a Blood
My blunts are like two dubs
Put 'em out, the roaches like bugs(?) the Benz ain't rented, ho(?) on my face too tinted, ho
Kick this shit like (?), aka Lieutenant, ho
Jockin' and be with me, he jockin' and be with me
And if you want them birds, I got a (flock ofthem with me)
No (?) and rich niggas is my icons
I'm not an (?), but if you need bricks (?)
Come back to you, like the back of you
Now I'm after you
And if you order more, we'll feed you rat food(?) and the top gone
Got a pint of lean plus I'm on Patron
Got a bad bitch and a wife at home
Gettin' crazy dome while I'm on the phone
Private flights, G6Flyin' overseas, got me seasick
Cold heart, never trust a bitch
Got a cold wrist, cold six
Forty-five, born to live, live to die
Summertime got a new coupe, no roof
Carbon fiber, bullet proof
Paid in Full like (?)
Got bricks of blow, buy sixty more
I'm on my grind in that real (?)
Man, I'm on my shit, bitches on my dick
Designer frames on my face
Can't see you niggas from outer space
Panoramic views, wanna (?)
In the penthouse where we chillin' at
I'm from zone three, bleedin' there
Nigga fuck you if you ain't feelin' it
Got a lotta hoes, a lotta clothes
Too many fans, I do a lotta shows
Got a lotta paper, fuck the haters10 grand in the club, ain't nothin' major
Do what I want, everyday
Fuck many groupies, I'm London Jae
Got the top spot, the world mine
The city mine, I'm on time
Now that's what I call a hell of a summer

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