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letra de best buy - rtb mb

[intro]
(enrgy made this one)
gang, rtb, n-gga

[verse 1]
like a bad ref, we be quick to let them tecs fly
an opp saw me on tv, but we caught his ass at best buy
f-cked a b-tch, she got to goin’ crazy, burnin’ sh-t like left eye
and i ain’t f-ckin’ with these hoes ’cause 20k what they impressed by
hopped in the wraith, yeah, i had to test drive
bro was hittin’ l!cks and servin’ nicks on the westside
bring the fin and the drac’, it depend on his chest size
b-tch got thirty-four double-d’s, that’s the best size
told my b-tch i’m really chillin’, that’s my best lie
d-mn, but she don’t believe me
i could never fall for a b-tch ’cause they never leave me
treat your b-tch like ufc ’cause i told her that she need me
put the switch up on the glock like bad kids, yeah, the bebe’s
yeah, your b-tch ate slices of that dog, we at cici’s
left my b-tch and it stung her ’cause her next n-gga can’t be me
it’s easy, i took another trip and had a three-piece
i ain’t even tryna learn how to love, b-tch, i ain’t weezy
no fakin’, n-gga
[verse 2]
sn-tch your b-tch, then i put her in a tesla x
all i got was head, i ain’t even have the rest of s-x
yeah, i like to flash, but the laser help me check the best
all headshots, we ain’t even have to check the vest
said i need that load, told lil’ baby to check her text
n-ggas keep on talkin’, opposition gettin’ less and less
my lil’ n-gga said he needed thirty, i gave meth a steph
really get on your ass, up the score, this ain’t the mixtape
b-tch just walked in, ass fat, but her tits fake
hit the gas on the scat’, told the hoes that my sh-t stink
you got the nerve to shine your flash in the club, but your wrist fake
if he try to beef with the gang, that’s a mistake
i don’t get in my feelings, lil’ n-gga, i just get dracs
i ain’t got no patience, but i still make a b-tch wait
took my gun to ruth chris, then i had a bl!ck date
spend three minutes with your b-tch, then i get my d-ck ate, yeah
pull up to houston, got that rocket with me
it don’t make no sense why you talkin’, you ain’t got a fifty
pull up to an opp crib and the k knockin’ with me
i get rude to a b-tch ’cause the wock’ was in me
n-ggas never kept it solid, so they ain’t rockin’ with me
your b-tch all up on my spear, but she not a britney
this n-gga mad ’cause his pockets empty
this whip topless, now i’m mad ’cause the tropics windy

- rtb mb

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