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Intro (Ghetto Assassin) - RMC Mike
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Intro (Ghetto Assassin) RMC Mike

Intro (Ghetto Assassin) - RMC Mike
[Intro]
(Enrgy made this one)
Hoo
Hahahaha, yeah
This my type of shit right here, done got out
Guess what? Ayy

[Verse]
This a thirty pointer diamond link
I don't need GPS for me to find the street
I'll rap all night, you just gotta find the beats
Bullets in the BMG look like flyin' trees
Ain't no "I" in "team"
Take a two-liter, fill that bitch with all Trishiana
Nigga, it don't matter how she look, you still gon' get behind her
Double rice when we at Benihanas
Don't go to war with nan' one of us, 'cause we got plenty choppers
We got the gas to the floor, you hear the hemi poppin'
I got a pint from nephew, he charged me sixty dollars
Forty-seven extra clips with me, could shoot for sixty hours
I can't fuck her no more, she got pussy power
Went to fuck another bitch and didn't take a shower
Ooh, that's nasty, ain't it?
And she ate the whole fuckin' thing when I ejaculated
Daughter out here gettin' beat down, I know her daddy hate it
Type of nigga I ain't get shit for my graduation
I just looked up, thanked God, and be glad I made it
Hold on, let me run and get my gun out of [?][0:50] basement
Bitch, I'm top three in this game, let me grab the rankings
Shit, bitch said her pussy good, I'm tryna see somethin'
She let me fuck her in the car, I gave her three hundred
Leave the house tonight, knock on the door like did I leave somethin'?
Fuck around and mop the whole house, I'm tryna clean somethin'
I got the devil on my shoulder, I can't get him off
Five-thousand-dollar 'fits, I got plenty— ahh
Five-thousand-dollar 'fits, I got plenty sauce
I got more drip in my closet than what your hemi cost
Damn, I need some Act' bad
Threw a switchy on my Glock to make it act bad
Ridin' with a hundred thousand dollars in a black bag
When you makin' money every day, you can stack fast
And that's some real shit
I got a baby Draco with a killswitch
I just popped a Vicodin, I wanna feel shit
I'll kill you 'bout my bitch, I'm not Will Smith
On some real shit
I just found some Hi-Tech, this an old eight
Big motor in the oldie make the road shake
I like to spice things up, bring me some Old Bay
She sucked the blood out my dick, I'm like, "Woah, bae"
You gotta slow it down
You better hope you ain't catchin' nothin' out here hoein' 'round
Pull up to your granny crib— I'm, ayy
Pull up to your granny— hold on, naw
Pull up to your granny crib, I'm finna blow it down
Police got behind me, hit the corner, throw it out
Stompin' in the TRX when it's snowin' out
You'd get there a lil' faster when you know the route
Shit, and I know the route
Street ballin' on these niggas, they can't check up
Two hundred thousand really ain't shit, I got my check up
Twenty thousand on me, blow a ten, put the rest up
Bitch, you suck dick? She like, "Mike, you got me messed up"
Haha
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