Practice Robb Bank$ (Ft. Sir Michael Rocks)

[Intro: Robb Bank$ speaking]
I'm fresher nigga
Look at you, broke ass
I know you thirsty
Hundred dollar cup bitch
Broward County
Fuck off my dick man for real
This shit real nigga
Raining money
Smart Stunnas this shit epic
You lil' bitch

[HOOK: Robb Bank$]
I fuck your bitch just for practice, practice
We jump your ass just for practice, practice
We sip that lean just for practice, practice
And bitch we global you need an atlas to find your bitch
She lied to you just for practice, about sucking my dick
Man that shit was just for practice
And you made her moan my nigga she was trying to practice
For your savage and bitch I'm perfect, I don't needa practice
Practice

[Verse 1: Sir Micheal Rocks]
Xan with the pour up
Put it with her sprite man she ain't even know it
She ain't even trippin', AMG's we whippin'
You niggas like glass bottles (What's That?)
My nigga that's hollow (What else?)
My last follow I beat the pussy like it stole something
Fold paper like I fold shirts
You a national holiday, no work, no school, no class
Got a beef with the 12th, they pulling them over that reefer they smell
That shit's enough to get them in the trunk
Smell like a skunk and he keeping them bail
Luckily G I'm a G with the spells
Drawing a star with a circle around
With the custom Coogi's, where my girls? Them fucking movies
Pluck a gem up out her chest, even if it's just a ruby throw it back
We don't need it, looking for the opals by the sack
And mixing gold with the plaque