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letra de kiss the ring (first day out) - rx papi

(yeah)
(yeah)

i’m back in that mode, got ’em lined up at the door
beat the pot on the back of the stove
came back with the load, sent auntie back to the store
if i say, ”get ’em whacked,” then he gone
i do not need a loan
the glock on my hip, i can’t leave it at home
can’t kick the cup, i can’t leave it alone
it’s one in the head, b-tch just leave me alone
when you talking to me better even your tone
walk in this b-tch like ted dibiase
hands on with the brick like mr. miyagi
switch on the glock, b-tch get out of the way
dark-skinned cartis look like johnny cage
blue tips spitting up out of the k
aimed for his chest, he got shot in the face
i’m off the meds, i’m out of my brain
two bricks of heroin for my chain
skinny ass jeans but i still got the glock in ’em
n-ggas rap like k!llers but they never shot n-ggas
you ain’t good in the trap, boy you really a shoplifter
switch hit if you think you gon try one of my n-ggas
pointers in chain will f-ck up your eyelids
glock on my hip, this my permanent side b-tch
dawg sh-t records, bring yo ass to the dog pit
i was just f-cked up, down bad, crawlin’
shooter had a mask, but they said they saw me
big brother freddy with a slab in the audi
auntie want a sleeve every time she call me
took a lot of losses, to the game i charged it
my back on the wall, that’s when i go the hardest
n-ggas still in the street, not a regular artist
i only feel numb when i’m on narcotics
i pull up in levante, the b-tch look robotic
i don’t windowshop, imma buy if i like it
when cuz off the boot, he gon turn to a sniper
driving the motherf-cker like it’s a viper
i was just in the yard, spinnin’ round with the lifers
real top dawg, y’all don’t know a n-gga like me
turn nothing to something and them n-ggas don’t like it
i move tight with the trap, trying to duck an indictment
b-tch, the flood on my neck, think i’m signed to so icey
oldhead put a young n-gga on the ice
he said he made 25 ounces in a night
junkies in the hood go crazy for meth
i walk in this b-tch like the new bmf
you ain’t gotta lie to me, n-gga, be yourself
it’s a big ass glock in my bb belt
praying on my downfall, they wanna see me fail
brodie finna send me 20 in the mail
i’m trying to fit them b-tches on the scale
this ain’t from the middle of the shelf
pap came home on some other sh-t
i walked in parole, i was fresh as h-ll
blew a big ass blunt before i got there, i know the secretary like, “what’s that smell?”
chain big as a suburban truck
pap pull up, jump out suburban truck
i’m high as sh-t trying to swerve in one
swing this b-tch and hit the curb or somethin’

- rx papi

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