Dawggy Real Boston Richey

[Intro]
(Ayy, 40, I got my 40)
Yeah
You got that?
Hey, load 'em up, that nigga finna come get like eight of them bitches
(That sounds like Heem on the beat)

[Chorus]
These Cubans on my next bust up, doggy
I can’t drive the work, but I can get 'em to U-Haul it
That nigga say he got one-fifty, damn, he think that's ballin’
That nigga trippin', I can hit the crib, get seven-fifty up out my closet
They shitted on me, now that shit gon' cost 'em
I ever hit a lick or runnin' down, I'm takin' all it
The headlights on the Benz look like frog eye when it's foggy
Front my friends Pеrc’ 10s, ain’t never ball hogging

[Verse 1]
That lil' bitch be pеrkin’, why you think that I be stallin'?
'Cause I don't fuck with you
Girlfriend turned to my baby mama, so now I’m stuck with you
Your nigga ain't even worth a fifty, I'm just being a buck with you
Your pussy good, why the fuck you think I still put up with you?
I be trappin' Bubba plates, I don't fuck with no dog food
And I sold more bricks than your brother and your dog too
I feel like Ross, this bitch here super thick, she twenty-two
We slidin' twenty-two, we in room 222
But birds go for thirty-two
I'm way too P, I give her way more pleasure then baby blue
When I'm talkin' trappin', I'm talkin' servin' them bases too
When I'm talkin' smackin', I'm talkin' 'bout gettin' active too