Letra de B.A.R. de Wiz Khalifa
(Intro)
Taylor Gang..
Paper planes..
You know what I say, tell them to keep count.
Let you other niggas speak bout..

(Verse 1)
Lamborghini dreams, beach house wishes, pour bottles of champagne for my beach house bitches
It ain't new to me that money boy I been bout. Throwing 100s on the floor, I tell her keep
count. nigga they ain't loving what I say cause I really live the life you other niggas speak bout
got my cameraman he down to do a movie for me, couple niggas round his diamond do the shooting
for me. I'm still riding with my main bitch, she rolling the joints something old school playing
She love me, we ****ing we in the fly free zone when some niggas will cap and save it.
I let her shop till she dropped dead sleeping in the crib wake up a decent pot plant
Jordan shorts and a pair of polo socks blazing with your bitch, if you wanna live smoke this

(Chorus)
I'm glad to be out the way in so long so long so long
I finally found me a closet photo, photo
And I'm gonna float on float on float on float on
And I'm gonna float on float on float on float on float on

And I don't have much but I take all I got and that's what I give, what I give.
What I get in return is the money I earn and the life I live, life I live.
I'm so gone as I burn after rolling, after rolling and float on, float on, float on.

(Verse 2)
Talk numbers I hire people to speak for me, if you love her, hide your bitch so you
keep shorty. Ever fly private so much diamonds in my chain hella sky mileage
I feel asleep on a plane and never woke up and now I'm living the dream.
Suckas hate hard, hoes treat me like I'm a king. They wanna live comfortably
sippin' on champagne, real niggas **** with me so drama is not a thing.
I gave my momma the ocean told her anything that came through the door to
open the whole clip. I'm with your bitch smoking, let her keep the mid
I'm gonna roll this potent. Hotel so close to the water you can even hear
the ocean. Them bitches can't breathe beware them niggas with tattooed sleeves.

(Chorus)

(Verse 3)
Wanna smoke 'cause they know that I keep flavors. Tell me how them other niggas
lame and she love the cool breathe so she ****ing with the Taylors.
Wear All-Stars and smoke papers. iPhone with no ringtone, vibrate or on plane mode.
Palm trees and bumpy roads, the weed burning but the money just flow.
While I'm looking at you niggas face, light another L and pull the liquor
out the case. Niggas try and bail see me now they want to hate, fly another plane
different city another state. My cash changed the forecast, as the team was half baked
before class. Now I smoke joints with other niggas hoes and this **** you burn after
you roll.. Fool.

(Chorus)

Letra de: http://www.letrasymusica.net

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