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[Verse 3] I'm in that Lamb' now, we in that Phant' now Fuck with that Fanta, huh She don't got no manners, I bring the fan out, we in Havana, yeah Yeah, my cup so red, bitch, look like Santa Might go to hell, yeah, know I'm a sinner I pour that ho and I made it for dinner I scored a pint, now I feel like a winner Cannot stop now, just started, huh Perc' ten, feelin' retarded, huh Shit was done before it started Yeah, put that shit in the past Been sippin' on glass Hi-Tech, Wockhardt to the stash I got a hundred bands in the tuck Now, on my side, just pulled the cash My phone, my phone, my phone And it stop ringin' Yeah, police callin', yeah, stay callin' Oh, they hate me so much, but I stay ballin' Feel like we in college Come down Friday, I wanna see what this about, huh (Yeah) Five-star hotel, I wanna kiss all on yo' mouth, huh (Yeah) Might pop my shit when I fuck yo' bitch, I don't need no clout, huh (Yeah) Slide down Monday, sun goes down, wanna take you out Oh yeah, wanna see where this goes, no, I can't live without (Know what's up) Hit the cup, where the fuck my Tris

The guys attacked Jake

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Choosing the Right Ashtray for Putting Out a Cigar An often-overlooked detail in cigar etiquette is the ashtray itself