corrija a letra Letra South Memphis Rugrats (Remix) por Young Dolph

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Letra

I say what I mean, I mean what I say
b*t*h

Gone in sixty seconds, never let a b*t*h stress me (Uh-uh)
Before the microphone, I made a milli' off the celly (Yeah)
I love to see her walk away because it look like jelly (Shake)
Went from zero to sixty in two seconds on Pirellis
I'm always at the jewelry store, I got a diamond fetish (Ice)
Smokin' on this kale while I'm countin' up this lettuce (Yeah)
Stack it to the sky, I believe that I can fly
Told the man in the mirror that you one hell of a guy
If I can do it, so can you, but sh*t, who the hell am I?
Who said it's lonely at the top? 'Cause that's a motherf**kin' lie
I brought my homeboys with me, ballin' in South Memphis like Dubai
Rolls Royces back-to-back-to-back-to-back, oh my god
(God, god, god, god, god, god, god, god, god)
I mean that sh*t (God, god, god, god, god, god, god)
Hold up, let me finish (Wait)
She so fine, I put it in and tried to touch her kidneys
I'm too motherf**kin' rich to go and eat at Denny's (What?)
But f**k that, I'm in a Jack Pirtle's drive-thru in a Bentley (Hey)
Front seat got my semi (Uh), opps, yeah, I got plenty (For real, though)
Playin' with these M's, but I started out with pennies (Yeah)
A hundo in my skinnies (Yeah)
Louis XIII, shots of top-shelf Remy (Yeah)
Grew up thuggin' just like Hoover Deuce, baby Jimmy
b*t*h, hey (Hey)
Yeah, I grew up thuggin', I'm a South Memphis rugrat (Rugrat)
Baguettes drippin' on my neck, these b*t*hes love that (Drip)
When I pop out, I got big, gigantic, stupid racks (Big racks)
f**k a job, I beat the block, I had to flip a pack (Flip it)
Self-made n***a, I'm hustlin' (Hustlin')
Can't go back to the days when I ain't have nothin'
But I won't forget 'bout the struggle (Nah)
I was just stackin' up racks in the trap in my shoebox, now I stuff that sh*t in a duffle (For real)
My plug keep sendin' them loads and I just keep flushin' 'em, call him back, I need another one (Another one)
Ridin' 'round town with a pocket full of Jacksons, I stack up them hundreds and fifties (Fifties)
Keep me a Draco, it got a banana clip, and the AR came with titties
Thirty-three shots in my Glock, Scottie Pippen (Yeah)
Double my cup, so you know what I'm sippin' (Double up)
Really havin' this sh*t, n***a, no, I ain't trippin' (Nah)
Paper Route the mob, n***a, I'm never flippin' (Yeah, on gang)

Yeah, I ain't never flippin' (Flippin')
Only thing that a young n***a is flippin' is these motherf**kin' packs that I'm gettin' (Yeah, that I'm gettin')
And I ain't worried 'bout none of these lil' broke-ass n***as or these b*t*hes (b*t*hes)
Everything a n***a do out here in these streets, they just gon' mimic (Yeah, mimic)
Seventy-five hundred for a show, lil' n***a, I'm booked, ain't no gimmick (Yeah, no gimmick)
All my cars 6.0s, them b*t*hes V8, yeah, they Hemis (Hemis)
Young n***a really havin' motion, I done served the whole damn Memphis (Memphis)
Make a play with white, it end up bitter or Mac Miller (Mac Miller)
Really made a killin', off of vacuum sealin' (Sealin')
Never been in love 'cause I can't really catch no feelings (No feelings)
Never had no nine-to-five 'cause I love drug dealin' (Drug dealin')
Been up in that field, lil' n***a, go and ask lil' Willy (Lil' Willy)
Beat the block up 'til the dope all gone (Yeah, yeah)
Trappin' real, real hard off of two phones (Yeah, both of 'em)

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