Jump Rope Chris King (Ft. RJmrLA)

[Chorus: Chris King]
Don't come around with no blick, [?] clutch yourself
Cocky ass nigga, man, that bitch better love herself
Baring arms to the point I could hug myself
Miss Goody Two Shoes come around and get fucked herself
I'm the plug, bitch, I know where it's at
Bail for the cops, the blower in tact
Bail in the foreign, fuck around and get lost
Tryna jump rope [?] Nemans like Rick Ross

[Verse 1: Chris King]
When there's so much money in your pocket, it look like [?] passes
Treat every minute valuable, you can't get your time back
Gotta check the energy, we tell a joke and get a dry laugh
Two pares of [?] in the hoodie, that shit like 5 racks
[?] is where I shop at
But you can die for white T's, get in a 5 pack
Or I could die for no reason, over my flag
Shit, but I got drive, fuck around, I need a low jack
Stars in the ceiling, let the rockets fly
Going ghost in the Ghost, even the driver hide
Catch a body, I flip it, then I pile drive
When it's up, get you fucked, it's a myle high
Now it's cold as Detroit, a 7 myle drive
Heat it up, fuck it up, do it one more time
I heat it up, fuck it up, do it one more time
I heat it up, fuck it up, do it one more time