[Verse 1: Action Bronson]

Back to the future

Yo all I need is just a snippet of the orchestra

And now we rockin' leathers and my team is dippin' Porsches

Trained in special forces I remain the same

Modeling the rugby with the horses on it, I'm lookin' gorgeous on it

A light gallop

The suit is seersucker like a scallop

Cop the land and over time you see the price pile up

My life style the dream of money though it feel nostalgic

It's sunny skies and good karma that keep the cheese surrounding (You'd be astounded motha'fucka)

I'm known to kick it like I'm Ronaldinho

My rhymes are spicy as a jalapeño, '87 fine Yovino

Cash the drift, one leaf wrap up the reefer

Now the vision seem clear, just like the cover on the beeper

Zero-10, 7:15, month of July

Shorty blowing on my dick my eyes closed, smoke in the sky

Exhale, right through my nose

North bound, headed for gods

First check, a quarter mil

Half that, split with the squad, kid

[Interlude: Action Bronson]

Damn it's like, I don't even know which way to go no more man

Just reflecting on my life now

I gotta get with it

Yo

[Verse 2: Action Bronson]

Deep reflection, smoking drug as the wind blow

Ash the $50 marijuana out the window

My golden aura shine, rising past the borderline

I crush the grape like a Greek to make a gorgeous wine

Open the Dutch and let tobacco fly through the wind, the saga begin

.38 parts, vivid like photography lens

Soon to see me dip mahogany Benz

I'm into quality, monogamy with all of my gems

That means I'm, true to it

The beat I give the flu to it

Or maybe AIDS if I had it, 'cause I'm a fuckin' addict

I'm on the terrace drinkin' wine and eatin' fuckin' rabbit

To cleanse the palate, lemon segments tossed up in the salad

Spark the pepper, my mind is like a Harvard lecture

Bronsolini going Persian on the carpet texture

Ancient Roman on the architecture

Straight outta' mothafuckin' Queens, my team, we got the heart to wet ya'

A Dutch Master like Robben and Sneijder, strike like a viper

The bottom of shoe tap like a typewriter

Pipe slider, I'm a fuckin' ninja warrior

We do the drug and eat ćevapi in Astoria

I ride zebras all through the jungle, take rock and never fumble

Shoot gun, right from the waist, slide piece to make it mumble on the come through

Several grams are stuffed inside the grundle

Saw the goal line, went airborne and did a tumble

Then I landed on my feet the two G's, impressed the sand

Wipe sweat, right off my brow, next door, dig up the lamb

That's been roasting over seven hours

Bronsolini smoke the deadly sour

A fuckin' winner like I'm Kenny Powers