Goonies J.R. Writer (Ft. Hell Rell & Jim Jones)

[Hook]
It's the Dips, we can't fall off we are sick
And keep ridin till the wheels fall off of this bitch
Salute, Wooo Wooo, Wooo Wooo
Wooo Wooo, Wooo Wooo
If you get money like ain't shit funny
And quick to tell a bitch she ain't getting shit from me
Holla back, Wooo Wooo, Wooo Wooo
Wooo Wooo, Wooo Wooo

[J.R. Talks]
Ok, Writer, (DipSet) Who ready?

[Verse 1]
Listen, This is natural, we're not compatible
A hustler not a rapper dude, don't make me have to clap a few
Wrap ya dude, Blat ya through
Nigga, fuck a stash box, I got a box in the stash for you
You ain't a Goonie, yous a Looney Tooney
I will use this Uzi to remove ya kufi
Troops salute me, dude ya fruity
Who's a groupie, and lucky that my shoes are Gucci (why)
Cause I stomp creeps, I'm beyond beats
Big war guns, check out my arm reach
I'll get ya moms leaked (where) stretch out in Palm Beach
Iffy till I put you underground then its concrete
You stepping up there them hecklers'll flare
Peter Rowe leave ya soul in a breathe full of air
No body better this year (why)
I'm in the zone, and it's like you goin bald, cause you'll never get here/hair