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letra de orbit - retch

poppin these perkys and sippin this hi-tek
we gone send the runner to get some more sodas
i’m poppin, i gotta look over my shoulder
the streets getting colder
they just k!lled a n-gga right there up the block from where i used to live at
you know [?] that be the drip at
this sh-t is a cycle
this sh-t be so psycho
i live every day just like a four [?]
i got a little boy, man i’m fragile [?]
my son he needs gucci so i gotta get it
this life sh-t too short, man i can’t chase no b-tches
don’t be ’round no p-ssies, that’s bad for my image
i talk to the lord and i know that he hear me
i fly off the orbit, i’m rockin’ givenchy
i step in designer, i jump out the bentley
i used to sell heroin and crack on my pennies

i’m draped in designer, i jump out that bentley
i step out that wing, all that fake sh-t offend me
my guinness, my game gone f-ck up the city
we stack up the hundreds and blow through the fifties
just know if you with me, you with me forrealy
i louis my sh-t just to block out the envy
can’t f-ck with these n-ggas, these n-ggas they tricky
still poured off the red, i’m remixin’ it simply
i won’t even look at a b-tch if she average
got hoes i can’t text cause they don’t speak the language
i dare you to sleep in the trap with the addicts
i still smell the tape when you peel off the wrapper
my last show in la on the stage had a ratchet
i shoot out to vegas to pick up a pack
and they countin’ me up and i’m back in the stream in the whip
and i’m back and this yellow lil b-tch, blow her back out
and this real life, it’s deep, no cappin’
i went to war with that chicken, relay to n-ggas
just put that boy in the venue
cut on the tv
i put the gang in them phoebes
imported hoe off of paris
pay me the who? i’m embarr-ssed
i’m in the foreign, no mileage
trappin, my b-tch in the [yaris?]
gun out the drink and we swervin’
whoa, whoa

i’m gettin head in the venue, i’m trynna get a lil [?]
huh, huh
i work that sh-t in the middle, shawty she diggin my rhythm
huh, whoa
i hit that sh-t in the studio, beat it to my instrumentals
whoa, whoa
the way she eat all that d-ck up, i swear i won’t never forget you

- retch

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