Cranberry Moonwalk - B.o.B, Mike Fresh

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 a acre

Bang that bitch in her baby maker

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 hip or two

Like uh, that’s a workout

She twerk so hard, she done twerked out

And I swear this freak bitch ride my wave so long

She know how to surf now

I’m throwin that lumber at yo baby mama

I’m smoking that Afghan, 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, 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 That chronic That chronic

Smoke!

Anything you done did

Yes I’ve done it I’ve done it I’ve done it I’ve done it

And they think that they do but don’t want it don’t want it don’t want it don’t

want it

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

Got these niggas mad

When they see that work

Uh and I’m whippin that Rari

E Honda E Honda E Honda E Honda