[Intro: RMC Mike]
Bitch
I couldn't even get my "Bitch" out
Bitch
Shit
(Boy, why these niggas keep playin'?)
[Verse 1: RMC Mike]
I just bust a bitch down at the Marriott
On the road, I had to stash the work, I seen the cherry top
Hold on, let me call my nigga Wally, bring the cherry out
Got a hundred on my PLR, bitch, I'll air it out
E, man, these niggas lame as hell, they ain't gettin' no pape'
Unc' on the stove whippin' hard while I hit the drank
Bro, hurry up and press record, I got some shit to stay
The stock fold on the back end, this a different K
Purple jeans, the pockets deep as hell, I can fit a dub
Flint niggas be hatin', out of town show real love
Droppеd seven pints off to my bitch, they gеttin' sealed up
Seen my cousin Trael make thirty bands off a pill run
Bitch, they was Roxis too
He the real Perc' man, but we know Bobby too
I made my own fuckin' wave, why would I copy you?
Name already established in the game, you got a lot to prove
[Verse 2: Rio Da Yung OG]
Ayy, I got a lot to say
He 'noid tryna shoot, his hands shakin', he gon' drop the K
Poured an eight of red, took a sip and gave the pop to Tay
They just let me off the box, somethin' gettin' shot today
Me and Mike just made history, it ain't shit else to prove
I still cut with doorman, it ain't shit else to use
I was cookin' on a George Foreman grill, I used skillets too
Eight hundred shots, it's just me, Mike, Kay, Trip, and Ju
Hundred fifty blues, I walked out and left it with the jeweler
He tried me and he ended up at Hurley in a basement cooler
This two zips, but if you add the cut, it's like eighty-twoish
When I'm fuckin' with the pup, call me Frankie Lucas
'Cause when I hit it with the cut, it turn baby blueish
Before I learned how to cook, I let my auntie do it
Niggas used to pay for hit dope, now they pay for music
My city fucked up, you'll fuck around and see a baby shootin'
Bitch
I couldn't even get my "Bitch" out
Bitch
Shit
(Boy, why these niggas keep playin'?)
[Verse 1: RMC Mike]
I just bust a bitch down at the Marriott
On the road, I had to stash the work, I seen the cherry top
Hold on, let me call my nigga Wally, bring the cherry out
Got a hundred on my PLR, bitch, I'll air it out
E, man, these niggas lame as hell, they ain't gettin' no pape'
Unc' on the stove whippin' hard while I hit the drank
Bro, hurry up and press record, I got some shit to stay
The stock fold on the back end, this a different K
Purple jeans, the pockets deep as hell, I can fit a dub
Flint niggas be hatin', out of town show real love
Droppеd seven pints off to my bitch, they gеttin' sealed up
Seen my cousin Trael make thirty bands off a pill run
Bitch, they was Roxis too
He the real Perc' man, but we know Bobby too
I made my own fuckin' wave, why would I copy you?
Name already established in the game, you got a lot to prove
[Verse 2: Rio Da Yung OG]
Ayy, I got a lot to say
He 'noid tryna shoot, his hands shakin', he gon' drop the K
Poured an eight of red, took a sip and gave the pop to Tay
They just let me off the box, somethin' gettin' shot today
Me and Mike just made history, it ain't shit else to prove
I still cut with doorman, it ain't shit else to use
I was cookin' on a George Foreman grill, I used skillets too
Eight hundred shots, it's just me, Mike, Kay, Trip, and Ju
Hundred fifty blues, I walked out and left it with the jeweler
He tried me and he ended up at Hurley in a basement cooler
This two zips, but if you add the cut, it's like eighty-twoish
When I'm fuckin' with the pup, call me Frankie Lucas
'Cause when I hit it with the cut, it turn baby blueish
Before I learned how to cook, I let my auntie do it
Niggas used to pay for hit dope, now they pay for music
My city fucked up, you'll fuck around and see a baby shootin'
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