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letra de idk - real boston richey

[intro]
yeah, yeah, yeah, n-gga, richey
man, i pop my sh-t and i do whatever
n0body gon’ stop sh-t
(known to let that mac fly just like my n-gga doe, baow)

[chorus]
let that mac fly, i get my turned up b-tch from my boy doe boy
i’m double r, they call me richey rich, ain’t no rolls-royce
spot my b-tch from out the crowd yellin’ my name, i know my hoe’s voice
two b-tches tryna sandwich me, tryna treat me like a po’ boy
crackers kicked my door in, i don’t even know sh-t
i ain’t even sold sh-t, i ain’t sold no bricks
my b-tch tryna ask me ’bout my whereabouts, i ain’t been with no b-tch
even though i know i’m slidin’ with g, bein’ on that ho sh-t
[verse 1]
tone, me, and renkеn, we slidin’, n-gga, that’s ’bout four switch
we all f-cked thе same b-tch, she done took ’bout four d-cks
cut her off, she put me in her close friends, i ain’t in no mix
had a mission set up by the club, i’m lookin’ like, “where my ho went?”
like, d-mn, bae, you did me like that? i should’ve blocked your ass
set a rich n-gga up, b-tch, i would’ve bought a bag
your last n-gga was cappin’ ‘fore he seen boston, i got all the cash
post three hundred on the ‘gram, they be like, “where his flossin’ ass?”
n-gga, i can take some pain, only pain i lost a bag
n-gga say he want some smoke, f-ck ’round, leave him coughin’ bad
thuggin’ on the block with the older n-ggas, that’s where i got my swag
f-cked her at my mama house, that’s why the b-tch just walked out fast

[verse 2]
gotta keep my nina on me ’cause these n-ggas be on some poor sh-t
freestyle all my sh-t in the booth, n-gga, i never wrote sh-t
know i’m in that mode when i’m out here juggin’, i don’t even post sh-t
i be out here juggin’ weed, girl, and boy, and more sh-t
hit the store to buy some bags, foreign car, the low stick
i ain’t dappin’ them n-ggas up, i don’t even know jit
f-cked a b-tch from the north side, from the back, i screamed out, “4 sh-t”
don’t let her find out where you stay, that’s how you get your door kicked
[chorus]
let that mac fly, i get my turned up b-tch from my boy doe boy
i’m double r, they call me richey rich, ain’t no rolls-royce
spot my b-tch from out the crowd yellin’ my name, i know my hoe’s voice
two b-tches tryna sandwich me, tryna treat me like a po’ boy
crackers kicked my door in, i don’t even know sh-t
i ain’t even sold sh-t, i ain’t sold no bricks
my b-tch tryna ask me ’bout my whereabouts, i ain’t been with no b-tch
even though i know i’m slidin’ with g, bein’ on that ho sh-t

- real boston richey

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