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letra de sleep with the rats - yrn murk

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[intro]
just another day
lot of lame n-gg-s in the way
finna move ’em out the way though
you dig?

[chorus]
i sleep where them rats at
got some racks in my backpack
walk around with a man-bag
glock forty with extension mag
got some young n-gg-s handle that
walk up on you pressin’, where it’s at
twenty bricks in the gucci bag
tell the gang go and handle that
flexin’ on n-gg-s, i know they mad
shoot you long range through the gl-ss
sippin’ actavis out a gl-ss
cl-ss clown, used to show my -ss
it ain’t my fault n-gg- you lost your chain
you walked in my trap and they smelled you lame
before i go out you gon’ know my name
drop the top on the mulsanne, bentley

[verse 1]
ridin’ around in the bentley, these n-gg-s is actin’ real fishy
my cup is so muddy, you wanna hit it, it’s gon’ cost you two-fifty
do dirt by myself, you know i ain’t worried, i keep me a semi
i’m patiently waiting for n-gg-s to try it, i see it, they envy
put the money in the money counter
got a couple plays comin’ in an hour
got a white b-tch cookin’ in the shower
put a mil in my face and it get devoured
a lot of these rap n-gg-s really coward
i’m so fresh, i stay dressed up like caesar salad
givenchy flip flops when i’m in the trap
you walk around sad, n-gg- no strap
i put that b-tch on a mission
hurry up, go wash the dishes
look at ’em walkin’ suspicious
hundred round hit ’em, extension
when i’m on percs, get to trippin’
the right price it might leave you missin’
get your ho out of my mentions
the pack just touched down, did i mention?

[chorus]
i sleep where them rats at
got some racks in my backpack
walk around with a man-bag
glock forty with extension mag
got some young n-gg-s handle that
walk up on you pressin’, where it’s at
twenty bricks in the gucci bag
tell the gang go and handle that
flexin’ on n-gg-s, i know they mad
shoot you long range through the gl-ss
sippin’ actavis out a gl-ss
cl-ss clown, used to show my -ss
it ain’t my fault n-gg- you lost your chain
you walked in my trap and they smelled you lame
before i go out you gon’ know my name
drop the top on the mulsanne, bentley

[verse 2]
ain’t my fault, ain’t my fault
caught him slippin’, hit him with the chop
cookin’ magic, look inside my pot
three seconds left, p-ss it, i take the shot
i got some work stashed in my auntie’s house
put away the money in my mama’s house
vacuum seal the dope and hide it in the couch
if them folks come in here then we shoot it out
goin’ deep in the field like an owens route
put gelato and cookie and sell my style
come and knock at your door like who want it now?
ever since a hand bullets cut ’em down
john travolta, take his face off
in some b-tch’s polo like i play golf
shoot the sniper long range, bet i pick him off
poppin’ percocets, thinkin’ they tylenol
i’m the reason you can’t come around
twenty-four seven, got out the ground
maison margiella, trappin’ in style
put your b-tch on the walk by the mile
take a look inside, my cup is violet
disappear work like the mayans
trapper turned rapper, you’re lying
pray to god that this shipment’s on time

[chorus]
i sleep where them rats at
got some racks in my backpack
walk around with a man-bag
glock forty with extension mag
got some young n-gg-s handle that
walk up on you pressin’, where it’s at
twenty bricks in the gucci bag
tell the gang go and handle that
flexin’ on n-gg-s, i know they mad
shoot you long range through the gl-ss
sippin’ actavis out a gl-ss
cl-ss clown, used to show my -ss
it ain’t my fault n-gg- you lost your chain
you walked in my trap and they smelled you lame
before i go out you gon’ know my name
drop the top on the mulsanne, bentley

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