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letra de opp pack - unkle d money

[intro: unkle d money]
(damjonboi)
mack-town
turn-around
yeah
what up, jonboi?

[verse 1: unkle d money]
another n-gga dead, but we ain’t mad, though
my n-gga bando dropped a new strand, he an assh0l-
and ain’t no sittin’ down and talkin’, he ain’t lando
new opp pack in the air, that’s what they mad for
naw, ’cause they mans on a tee, that’s what they sad for
i been trappin’ all my life, b-tch, i grew up in a bando
lil d meet me on the block, ain’t leavin’ stock until the bag gone
(n-ggas be spooked, you ain’t whoop, why the f-ck you got a rag on?)
most of these hoes play it dirty, so that’s why i keep the mag’ on
why would i touch a basic b-tch when i be f-ckin’ on the models?
i heard it’s lonely at the top, but wasn’t n0body at the bottom
shift workin’ in that spot, tryna come up on a thousand
turned around, now i’m a boss, baby, i knew that from a toddler
bro say he done trappin’, but he still f-ck around with couches
callin’ for a zip, the ‘bows in, i don’t f-ck around with ounces
(your mans a rat, you look goofy, you still f-ck around with mouses)
old-ass n-gga, grown rats, y’all some big mice
n-ggas jokes, laughin’ at life, you can’t get right
i’m from the mack, but i been rollin’ on the 7 like trick dice
(if the p-ssy good and the ass fat, i might trick twice)
you cap, you ain’t tryna sell that strap, then what you show me for?
n-gga, you ain’t sippin’ act’, that ain’t close enough
tell that b-tch watch them bumps while i’m pourin’ up
fun fact, i don’t like hoes in the back that ain’t rollin’ up
was into scams before corona, n-gga, ain’t sh-t slowin’ up
couple hundred for the jeans and turtle zips just to hold ’em up
remember i was that dirty lil’ n-gga, guess i’m glowin’ up
tell auntie i’m still shoppin’, come load me up
i took a trip for it, i can’t do no deals, is you broke or what?
[verse 2: rio da yung og]
fifty-five hundred for a ‘bow, i’m finna smoke it up
this a free pound, bring a box of ‘woods and you could roll it up
them bullets that i got hit your top, i’ma blow it up
just got a wock’ pint, b-tch d-mn near gone before i open it up
i wouldn’t sell a line if you had nine hundred, i’ma pour it up
you a spot worker, you can’t touch the bag, go get the door or somethin’
f-cked three hoes raw in one night, am i a ho or what?
810 baby, i’m from flint, but the east love me
rose gold ten milli’ in the club, n-gga, keep muggin’
found a thousand m30s for the low, i hit skeeze up
made her go through pain and suck my meat up, f-cked her knees up
just sold barry three pounds of snickle fritz and sold dz one
half a million dollars in three months, opps can’t keep up
n-ggas tryna rap, give me seven racks and pull a beat up
so much wock’, this sh-t poison, it taste like we pourin’ bleach up

[verse 3: rmc mike]
sixty rounds in that plr, f-ck the streets up
cleared three hundred cash in like nine months, n-gga, we up
i want wockeisha, f-ck that patricia, i hate cheap stuff
you drinkin’ fake lean, i put it in a box, his cup freeze up
if you want a feature but your sh-t weak, i need double
if my brother skeeze pull up with fn, you in trouble
b-tch tried to fall in love, i hit her with the cupid shuffle
get my chips up, b-tch, i’m stackin’ lays, you a ruffle
i been chewin’ rappers for some time, i’m gettin’ full now
bring 200k to stockdale street and brung the hood out
d-mn, this b-tch might be pregnant, i ain’t pull out
you want a job? b-tch, i’m payin’ a rack a day for a lookout

- unkle d money

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