Bars (RIP T)

I got bars, bars, fucking cars
Aeroplanes, deep massage
Bars, bars, fire, fire
Tell your girl I won't retire

I got bars, bars, fucking cars
Aeroplanes, deep massage
Bars, bars, fire, fire
Tell your girl I won't retire
Woo

Here I am
Flying down the street like Superman
And I won't do it but my best friend can
I won't do it but my best friend can

We got them blue jeans, got them at Costco
She hates that blue cheese but loves Tabasco
But everybody knows that I'm your boss, yo
But everybody knows that I'm the boss though

You know I'm gonna write the words
I'm gonna play the strings
And don't forget I still fucking sing
Even on the street I was a fucking king
(Even on the street I was a fucking king)

I got bars, bars, fucking cars
Aeroplanes, deep massage
Bars, bars, fire, fire
Tell your girl I won't retire

Woo-hoo
Tokyo, drifting down the street in my sleek Volvo
Winding down my window, I'll let everybody know
That I bought this car with my papa's dough

Yeah, my best friend, don't need a wine glass
They love the goon sack, up here it's all class
But everybody knows that they can shake their ass
But everybody knows that they can shake their ass

I got bars, bars, fucking cars
Aeroplanes, deep massage
Bars, bars, fire, fire
Tell your girl I won't retire

I've got a feeling I'll be fine
Left it all behind
In the house up in the hill that I once called mine
Left the keys in the van from '69
To the motherfucking madhouse
(King T vibes)

I got bitches
Bitches
Bitches
And I got

I got bars, bars, fucking cars
Aeroplanes, deep massage
Bars, bars, fire, fire
Tell your girl I won't retire
Woo

Here I am
Flying down the street like Superman
And I won't do it but my best friend can
I won't do it but my best friend can

RIP to the BOG
Footy MVP
Yeah, the big King T
We'll miss you so much
We love you, T