Hey, what's up? What's up? What's up? I feel you. I feel you. Oh, yo, I got some more tracks to play. Listen, we're going to get to. Look, I got I'm only playing wax tonight. I'm only playing wax tonight strictly. So if you got a request, if you got it on, if I got it on vinyl, I'll play it, but otherwise I can't play it. What's on your phone? Yo, maybe I'll give your girl a shout out later. We ain't got microphones, so I don't know what you want me to do. Dance floor, mystic, mythic, spiritual, hip ***, keep it lit for the critics. A critical beat down the curl on her lips, say my disc is way too cryptic. Take a sip of a drink, bang. Kiss the cheek of a dude in the make. She wonder why nobody ever play pink like they did at the skate rink on the 18th. My dear, you're that wrong. Step into me instead step into this song, flashing the playlist on your iPhone like I don't have three stacks of wax in my zone. My love, party people in the mood. Give it a gas face while the needle hit the groove. My love, this ain't your room. Let the DJ play and you just move. Slow down. Your request out there's getting old and messed up. Slow down. This *** is getting old now. Runnin' and runnin' and runnin' the top. Hancock is runnin' the block. Matt in the seats, growin' and pickin' the crops. We sippin' and smokin' the light. Tip-tipped on to the top of my dock. The flock, pop poppin' like Glocks. Hancock all up in a mop like Pop Rock. Now a couple shots got her. Runnin' and runnin' and runnin' the mouth. The East bringin' the sound. Joinin' the North and the West and the South with the sound. The sound got the arouse. Now there's wine all in the blouse. Better slow down, better slow down. What goes up must come down. We stay you get down. Slow down. Your request out there's getting old and messed up. Slow down. This *** is getting old now.