Like it’s His R3 Da Chilliman (Ft. 03 Greedo)

[Intro]
(Reconboy)
(Run that back, West)

[Chorus: R3 Da Chilliman]
Bitch, I'm bustin', I'm in here sweatin' off a Perc'
Don't trust me, if he cross me, he get murked
Bitch, don't ask me, I got it tatted 'cause that's the turf
You livin' wrong, forgot to put your money first
He a trophy, he mean business when he lurk
Opp splash, let him have it like it's his
I need it all in a safe 'fore it get worse
Backyard bandits go in homes, lock your cribs

[Verse 1: R3 Da Chilliman]
I'm up workin', gettin' money, ain't no sleep
This four-five louder than the AMG
Glock on my hip like Rambo
Bounce out, drop shit, then we outro
Nigga, how the fuck you a trophy?
You nevеr had a high-speed with the police
He don't know thе juice, that shit water-whipped
I been blampin' coupes, I was a problem kid
I'm in here clutchin' on the stick, he better not play with me
Brazilian butt lift if she came with me
He better tuck his shit 'fore we yank his piece
He belong with the busters, can't hang with me
Just met a stuffer, she ain't rich, but she finna be
You dropped some pape', niggas still tryna kill for free
'Bows gone, we them niggas with them P's
Your pockets empty, so she way out of your league