Correction Paroles b*tch Made par Rio Da Yung OG

Retour

Paroles

b*t*h (2Raw)
Like Mike said, ho
b*t*h

If you ain't gang up in this b*t*h, then I ain't tryna meet you
Like Biggie said, it was sardines and five-dollar pizzas
I was sellin' dog, riskin' it all, my b*t*h recyclin' Visas
f**k on Halle Berry, she introduced me to that Mona Lisa
Y'all got chops, we do too, but y'all don't got the breather
I was taught if you up, you gotta feed your people
Hundred, ain't nobody get left behind, all my n***as equal
With the chop, lil' bro like Drake, he got more hits than The Beatles
Statin' facts about your brother, just know it was lethal
All that cappin' on the 'Gram, but wouldn't slide for your people
b*t*h-made, I put that on my kids, wouldn't slide for you either
Trap on me, but I can instantly drip in a snap or a breather
Bring half of my n***as with me, other half releasin'
The sh*t I spit'll give a n***a chills, b*t*h, I'm half a preacher
Bro just scored on another eight and put half in a liter
Raw Wednesday through Sunday, b*t*h, I'm half a cheater
They say the dogfood so good, it'll have 'em racin' cheetahs
I can show the ropes to Ray Charles with that Justin Bieber
Heard the feds still tappin' lines, you better grab a beeper
They tried to indict us back in middle school for jumpin' people
You can look if you want, if you touch, it's lethal
One thing about me, it's in the streets, I'll never call the people
We gon' slide with them K's or with a Desert Eagle
I'll rob you for them 'bows, I ain't tryna meet you
Whack a n***a broad day, ain't no heart in me
One shot, I hit the bullseye, I know archery
Baby, I don't want no Percocet, take this bar for me
I gave the fans sixteen bars, you bought a car for me
I made a killing off the soft, but it's the hard for me
Did an EP with one of my n***as, had to charge Lil E
Drinkin' Wockeisha every day, but I got Par for cheap
Five-seveN knocked his chin off, made it hard to eat
41 Rollie on my wrist, Hutch did the bezel
He caught me sticking d**k in her jaws, now his b*t*h in trouble
I'm finna triple up off this bag, yeah, I mixed it double
You would never know the right play 'cause you missed the huddle
Fifty piece on my first kit, I'm a hood legend
Mike, when is you gon' let me f**k? That's a good question
Unc' off Addys, suckin' b*t*hes' toes, he got a foot fetish
Just upped a hundred racks on my opps, now they look desperate

Alright
Alright
Alright
Alright

Upped a hundred racks on the 'Gram, now they look jealous
Bought a fake pint of Wockhardt, got the book separate
Hell yeah, I'ma keep swipin' 'til the hook catch it
Stop postin' five hundred dollar features, it make you look desperate
Gucci coat thirty-two hundred, only wear it once
We the ones droppin' all the bodies, they scared of us
Mad at Mike like, "Why you go to Hutch and f**k your bezel up?"
Was finna drop the skelly AP, but that's an extra buck
Ghetto Boyz, b*t*h, it's in our blood, we make it look easy
Hundred shots on one gun, it's just me and 3zzy
Pint of Wockhardt in one pop, it was me and Peezy
Was really payin' seventeen-five for bricks, I believed Jeezy
I don't want no 1942, I'm a lean drinker
Even if he die off first shot, I'ma keep squeezin'
I'm tryna cut a whole brick up, I need a meat cleaver
Dropped thirty, then Mike dropped, it was repeated
(2Raw)
Ghetto Boyz sh*t, n***a, you know what the f**k goin' on
RMC sh*t, n***a, MCD sh*t
Yeah, shout out my— alright

clip

Ton pseudo sera publié. Laisses les champs vide pour rester anonyme.