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Cranberry Moon Walk (feat. Mike Fresh) - B.o.B.
If we gon smoke gotta do it out a jar
If we gon ride gotta drop the top on the car
I pull over to the side
you don’t mind if I play my guitar
We’re just starin at the stars
tryna figure out who we are
Oh cranberry moon walk
Cranberry moon walk
This shit amazing
17 chips gotta calculate it
Paid for tuition
that’s a graduation
Killin through the presidents
that’s assassination
Uh I smoke a half, I make her
Bang that bitch and her baby make up
Look, I ain’t no baby maker,
She was hanging so tight
I had to amputate her like uh
I got shit to do
Ball up, pour up, twist a few
But hey I’ve been runnin this shit so long
I’mma fuck around
and blow out a hit or two
Like uh, that’s a workout
Can twerk so hard, she can twerkout
And I swear this freak bitch
ride my wave so long
She know how to surf now
I’m throwin that long back
at yo baby mama
I’m smoking that alien
I call that Osama
I got my own lane but
I ain’t got no genre
I’m shittin on niggas
you might need a plunger
Uh, no I ain’t no worries
No drummer, no drama
Uh and I’m whippin that Rari
E Honda E Honda E Honda E Honda
And we deep like 300
From the east side, yes I keep it 100
Go and my weed hydroponic
That chronic That chronic
Smoke!
Anything you done did
Yes I've done it
I've done it
And they think that they do
but don’t want it
don't want it
If we gon ride gotta drop
the top on the car
Watch me put in work
Yea I put in work
Got these niggas mad
‘Cause I get it first
Get yo feelings hurt
Bet yo feelings hurt
When they see that work

I pull over to the side,