More songs by Babyfxce E
More songs by Rio Da Yung Og
Description
Vocals: Rio Da Yung Og
Vocals: Babyfxce E
Producer: Jxlan
Masterer, Mixer: Kevin “No Credit” Spencer
Writer: Jalan Causey
Writer: Efrem Jamar Blackwell
Writer: Da'mario Donshay Horne-McCullough
Lyrics and translation
Original
-Thank you, Jalen. I appreciate that! -What it is? I appreciate you.
Aight. It's seven in the A. and we still rappin'.
It's like seven niggas in here right now that'll wrap you like a package.
The boys askin' questions, I got five words, "I don't know what happened.
" Took her to my home, we made a run, I should've been a batter, because I cracked the bitch. Tell 'em I ain't backin' in until
I'm backin' in, and if I put it on her, I promise that bitch gon' be back again.
I'm go wherever I want, nigga, I ain't gotta do no tappin' in.
Rich Dumb Shit Gang just called me, say he smacked the Benz.
On my soul, it only take one call to bring them smackers in.
My bitches askin' 'bout a bitch, I hit her with the Mike Jackson stance. I wasn't sayin' nothin'. Gen four, Gen five, they both got a button.
Two cars and they supercharged, they both over hunnid.
It's me and bro, we finna go, that's why we left 'em runnin'.
Cold dog with no pole, then post a video of when we jumped him.
-Damn!
-Told my nephew, "Don't do no bullshit, 'cause I'll whack your uncle.
" I ain't talkin' 'bout myself, I'm talkin' 'bout my brother. My other brother, but this my brother's son.
One day I spanked the nigga with my brother gun. Disappointed in my uncle's son, I seen my cousin run.
My other uncle's son, I hope somebody cut his fuckin' tongue out his fuckin' mouth.
Run in the fuckin' house.
At my bitch mama crib like Rick James, bitch, fuck your couch! In the studio without no drink, I'm finna fuckin' bounce.
Pull up on a hoe, get the face, then I fuckin' bounce. It's me and Face in the— I'm finna boss out.
The AK made his car look like he got eye drops.
I'm off painkillers, drank, Black and Milds, and antibiotics.
If a nigga take your chain off your neck, is you gon' die 'bout it? Is you gon' slide 'bout it? Is you gon' ride 'bout it?
A nigga spank your damn brother, you gon' cry 'bout it. You not gon' get no get back.
I drink twelve Ace of Quades, not no motherfuckin' six-pack. I drunk a six-pack, that's why
I'm gettin' fat. I been outside so long, bitch, I'm gettin' black.
You ain't been outside enough, boy, you gettin' pale.
Now you care about your kids when you in jail, you must be finna tell.
You know they got a free bed for you and like three meals. Finna real with the label, told Gazzy I need three million.
I need three M's. A Glocky go with everything, it's like some Week Ten.
It's in the 'Rari, if they get behind me, they gon' eat shit.
With some fine shit, real thick, and she only open her mouth when it's time for her to. . . Eat dick.
She off that G6. Know I got that pole, AR on like I'm Nick Smith.
He wanna leave his home, call his bro, he gon' bring tints.
They gon' camp out there so long until he leave his crib. Why I keep on going to jail? I don't know.
Bill is big as hell, please don't go to hell 'bout a hoe. Like, is you gon' die 'bout it?
Is you gon' cry 'bout it? If they ask your ass who popped him, is you gon' lie 'bout it?
Okay, that bitch a cat, but is it wide body?
If I hit him on the side of his scalp, did I side party? Her pussy smell like sex, should I Mike her?
The owner caught us in his scat, he said, "Hey, that's my Charger! "
Buckshots in the shotgun, it's a street sweeper.
I bang bang and pour eight Ciroc and Smart Pops, bitch, I. . . I Chief Keef it.
I had a drink plug, I let Lil E meet him.
Ayy, Face, remember when I tried to buy that Glock off you?
We hit his car so many fuckin' times, we knocked the top off it.
-I appreciate you.
-I shot him in his arm, knocked the watch off it. We just poured an eight in here, how much this pop cost us? This is not a
Ghost9, I just scratched "Glock" off it. The red came in a black bottle like some
Boss water. One day I got fired from my job, I hit the boss dumb.
I told the doc I need some drank to get this cough out.
If a nigga shoot your brother in his face, is you gon' walk 'bout it? Is you gon' hop out the fuckin' car and walk down on him?
Like, why the fuck you whisperin' in my ear? You need to talk louder.
Fah, fah, frr, frr, fah, fah, fah, fah.
One day we had a shootout just like that on my mama block. He robbed a nigga in front of his dukes crib, then got his mama shot.
How about the first time I used a rubber damn condom pop?
Anaconda Glock, I'll slime you up.
Go get some motherfuckin' get back, what you cryin' 'bout?