[Hook]
Ain’t nobody fucking with me
Ain’t nobody fucking with me
Ain’t nobody fucking with me
[Verse One: Emilio Rojas]
Yeah, now ain’t nobody fucking with Emili
With a couple bad bitches that’ll suck us till they silly
From the Roc and I been living like a boxer outta Philly
And I’m running up the Rocky stair, lucky that I gotten here
A little Pac in him, little bit of Jay, a lot of Em
A little Pun and Hector Lavoe so them women wanting him
Now that’s a Latin swag, full price for half a bag
Young and I had nothing, I ain’t never going back to that
Wherever we go, you know we getting c-notes
Making money off your fucking reservations like casino
My bitches never need clothes ‘cause they covered in weed smoke
My memory is foggy, I forgotten how to be broke
They know we hungry how we roll around
So if we bite the hand that feed, it’s ‘cause it only trying to hold us down
Latinos growing now, every show, we showing out
Y’all are fucking crazy trying to slow us down
[Hook]
[Verse Two: XV]
R-I-P to those Mercedes doors
They suicide and I ain’t even save ‘em lord
A simple life full of nights that you go crazy for
Blaze at dorms with crazy whores, hotel rooms with 80 floors
Hold up, sit, there may be more but I’m no Oompa Loompa
So these dudes will never play me short, mind is like I’m 84
Flow is like I’m 90's bred and grind is like I’m 80's born
Flow is still with all these threats that all these naked bitties want
Niggas ask how the rap game changed, how?
First thing I answer is the rap game ain’t me
Authenticity isn't vivid, it’s seen faintly
Lately, I haven’t been placing where niggas place me
Wouldn’t be preaching if niggas made masterpieces
But basely, these niggas been blatantly fucking tracing
Green, turn on the lantern and Bruce Banner just got angry
Backpacks, hundred stacks, going green, ain’t we?
Ain’t nobody fucking with me
Ain’t nobody fucking with me
Ain’t nobody fucking with me
[Verse One: Emilio Rojas]
Yeah, now ain’t nobody fucking with Emili
With a couple bad bitches that’ll suck us till they silly
From the Roc and I been living like a boxer outta Philly
And I’m running up the Rocky stair, lucky that I gotten here
A little Pac in him, little bit of Jay, a lot of Em
A little Pun and Hector Lavoe so them women wanting him
Now that’s a Latin swag, full price for half a bag
Young and I had nothing, I ain’t never going back to that
Wherever we go, you know we getting c-notes
Making money off your fucking reservations like casino
My bitches never need clothes ‘cause they covered in weed smoke
My memory is foggy, I forgotten how to be broke
They know we hungry how we roll around
So if we bite the hand that feed, it’s ‘cause it only trying to hold us down
Latinos growing now, every show, we showing out
Y’all are fucking crazy trying to slow us down
[Hook]
[Verse Two: XV]
R-I-P to those Mercedes doors
They suicide and I ain’t even save ‘em lord
A simple life full of nights that you go crazy for
Blaze at dorms with crazy whores, hotel rooms with 80 floors
Hold up, sit, there may be more but I’m no Oompa Loompa
So these dudes will never play me short, mind is like I’m 84
Flow is like I’m 90's bred and grind is like I’m 80's born
Flow is still with all these threats that all these naked bitties want
Niggas ask how the rap game changed, how?
First thing I answer is the rap game ain’t me
Authenticity isn't vivid, it’s seen faintly
Lately, I haven’t been placing where niggas place me
Wouldn’t be preaching if niggas made masterpieces
But basely, these niggas been blatantly fucking tracing
Green, turn on the lantern and Bruce Banner just got angry
Backpacks, hundred stacks, going green, ain’t we?
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!