a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de roxanne 3x - rxknephew & rx papi

[intro: rx papi]
huh
dawg sh-t records

[verse 1: rx papi]
lil n-gga ran off with it he ain’t bring no cane back n-gga
got money moved out the hood you can’t blame that n-gga
put this glock in your face rearrange that n-gga i ain’t the same cat n-gga
but i’ll still get down on you put this big pound on you
this b-tch got 30 rounds for you talk that dog sh-t daily don’t no n-gga do it like me n-gga
paid twenty thousand f-cked your b-tch in a pair of white nikes
n-gga the block hot they know my name and they know my face
when this glock in my hand get the f-ck up out my way
when i was six teen i wasn’t working i was robbing everyday
you don’t know sh-t bout drugs deals you don’t know no slug feel
[?] smoke since i was seven unc ass on the drugs still
everybody ‘round my way sold dope n-gga
it is what it is it’s gon’ go how it’s gon’ go n-gga
one thing about pap they gon’ say i ain’t no hoe n-gga
and i’m train to go n-gga i’m on go n-gga off the rip with it
i got a motha f-cking glock it got a stick it in
i switch and еmpty the whole clip in less thеn –
i switch and empty the whole clip b-tch i been trippin’
this b-tch still hittin’ my n-ggas on some bullsh-t don’t try that sh-t with us
n-gga take yo chain and watch off my n-ggas stick ya up
all my n-ggas grimy and they shiesty that’s just how we coming
i don’t give a f-ck about no record deal i want some money
b-tch!
they say lil’ cuz need meds that lil’ n-gga crazy
12 shot tom brady glock 9 no three eighty
ayy didn’t yo mama ever tell you not to talk to strangers
b-tch i seen neph cook up with a wire hanger
b-tch my glock in hand if i feel i’m in danger up this b-tch and get to banging
p-ssy ass n-ggas know wassup with us it’s thirty in the glock i can’t knuckle up
lil cuz got the chop out the drop he gon buck some up
crackers give me money i spend the half on dope the other half on guns
f-ck my opps they ain’t on nun you a p-ssy so is yo son
n-gga tell me i can’t cook dope ight b-tch imma show you
one thing i can’t stand is when a n-gga talk like he know you
let me know what’s on my face that make me look like i’m approachable
n-ggas on the internet they talk like they got smoke with you
i pull up on my opps and do exactly what i’m supposed to do
i was masked up like a f-ck but they like “papi, we still know it’s you”
they took the jury when i’m rolling through the glock same size as 42
[?] do the sh-t my hoes a do half the city got my d-ck in they mouth
i done shot so many n-ggas house made ‘em move out
they know we inter state babies we gotta find a new route
these n-ggas think they el chapo they only loved a few ounces
real dope boy my pockets filled up with a few thousands (yeah, yeah)
[break: rxknephew]
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
aye!
yeah, yeah
yeah, yeah

[verse 2: rxknephew]
ya broke as f-ck you better go get you some
opps be sharing guns for facebook pictures they ain’t hitting nun
this glock i got i do not like to show unless i’m “boom boom boom”
she said that she got sh-t to do b-tch i got sh-t to do
hit that trap i beat that bowl i pray to my rag like a [?]
all the opps be on a n-gga d-ck they ain’t got sh-t to do
i can put ya mans on all our bags got stamps on them
get the f-ck from ‘round here n-gga big neph ain’t putting no stamp on it
ayy this .556 a turn him forrest gump crack that look like ms puff
my lil b-tch she a fine one how i know she f-ck with me cause lil mama gon’ line her some
i’m not the one to play with b-tch! go find you one
every ten bags get tied up that’s a bundle for you
cook it and fold it for you wrap that b-tch and in foil for you
all my opps fl!ck qp’s and wear mall jewelry dope boy white tee
i ain’t gotta go to the mall for it that thirty sound like – chicken head
six, six fah, grrt turn him to crazy leg aye might drop a bag on her she got crazy head
i might just change my mind crazy in my head
i got that super [?] like i just left the feds
i feel like rokane put this glock down use my hands
that b-tch go – b-tch i come for the grams that pot go “skirr” then blow up when i beat the pan
they like chill i’m like h-ll naw do the pot like pap and [?] in the backyard
they never leave they yard they backyards again
catch a n-gga “fah!” like he shawn and em’ aye!
pat down my [?] i put the glock on him
h-ll nah i ain’t a boxer glock make him freeze up like papa doc and them
walk in that b-tch beat the pot like [?]
not going in b-tch can’t get the glock in there
you not from around here can’t trap shop
24 hour we one stop shop

- rxknephew rx papi

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS