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letra de spice masters - krispylife kidd & rmc mike

[intro: krispylife kidd]
krispylife, n-gga, alright
rmc mike in this sh-t
(coronado on the beat)
look

[verse 1: krispylife kidd]
spent a lot on these guccis, so i’ma keep on walkin’
ran up some dog sh-t, so i’ma keep on joggin’
gramz bust his mouth down, told him, “keep on talkin'”
hit his hood with some big sh-t, the car keep on stallin’
so much sh-t in the trunk, i’m scared to move the whip
the waitress drop loads on him, that’s what you call a tip
hold this b-tch sideways, tryna shoot like i’m hittin’ the whip
you ain’t never been on nothin’, boy, you’s a b-tch

[verse 2: rmc mike]
baby chopper hit him up close, removed his hip
thumbin’ through a hundred k cash, removed the slips
handyman workin’ on the crib, keeps tools on sh-t
blew a n-gga car up, he wouldn’t move his sh-t
i only f-ck with n-ggas that’s like me, keep it too real
i done spent so much on michael js, i need a shoe deal
ghetto boy, peezy ain’t thе only one up two mil’
boss sh-t, a snap of my finger could get you k!llеd
[verse 3: krispylife kidd]
in that matte-black ‘cat and we slidin’ on two wheels
scared to leave my sh-t runnin’ ’cause baby e steal
let me manage your career, b-tch, i’m [?][0:54]
in a drop ‘vette f-ckin’ this b-tch up, i need a detail
she f-cked four bloods this week, i know she tired of slobs
hit a n-gga with that cha-cha, he ain’t tryna slide
i surpassed a lot of n-ggas and now i’m idolized
pop a n-gga at checkers, he done died for fries

[verse 4: rmc mike]
took a new b-tch to pound town, let the condom slide
i cannot let tae see the e ’cause he bound to slide
just scored a pint of wockeisha, who down to fly?
i’m on my way to some pape’, who down to ride?
n-gga, how the f-ck is you real, rockin’ fake sh-t?
it’s b-ttons everywhere in this b-tch like a sp-ceship
i’m pullin’ up on any type of pape’ if it make sense
you want the red pill or the blue pill? this the matrix
h-llcat doin’ one-sxity in the fast lane
stayed down and waited my turn until the bag came
you had to use the whole thirty clip, boy, you got bad aim
i promise i’ma make it to the top, that’s on my last name
ghetto boyz times iur, we some problems
i’m droppin’ so much heat inside this b-tch, i broke the module
doggy bone tried to flex in our hood and we robbed him
real lean head, been takin’ sips of act’ since a toddler
[verse 5: krispylife kidd]
wet a n-gga jean fit until he out of denim
n-gga play with you in any way, then you gotta k!ll him
b-tch, if you flirt with my n-gga, then you gotta hit him
in la, just f-cked a b-tch that’s from south central
and i don’t know if she blood or crip
money got me walkin’ funny, i got a dub a hip
hit him twenty-seven times right above his hip
amiris, i bought ’em too tight, only a dub can fit
in seattle hittin’ stores with my scammer b-tch
seen the flash on the glock, he thought a camera fl!cked
clip full of cancer patients, try to cancel this
you could keep that wockhardt, i’m a fan of trish
just got my d-ck sucked on some random sh-t
on the ‘gram lookin’ through my likes, which fan to hit?
oyster or the jubilee, which band to pick?
i brought my shooter out today, i said, “stay in the pit”

- krispylife kidd rmc mike

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