We be all night, and everything all right
No complaints from my body, so fluorescent under these lights
Boy, I'm drinking, park it in my lot, 7-11
I'm rubbing on it, rub-rubbing, if you scared, call that reverend
Boy, I'm drinking, get my brain right, Armand de Brignac, gangster wife
Louis sheets, he sweat it out like washrags, he wear it up
Boy, I'm drinking, I'm singing on the mic to my boy's toys
Then I fill the tub up halfway then ride it with my surfboard
Surfboard, surfboard
Graining on that wood, graining, graining on that wood
I'm swerving on that, swerving, swerving on that
Big body Benz serving all this, swerve, surfing all in this good-good