
On The Radar First Hour Out Freestyle Rx Papi
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "On The Radar First Hour Out Freestyle" от Rx Papi. Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.

[Intro]
Uh
Dawg Shit Records
Real Rx
Big drug rich, the real one
Uh
[Verse 1]
Just came home, bought a new pendant
Know how you feel when it’s niggas saying you finished
They slid masked up, they don’t know who did it
A hundred round drum, this bitch’ll shoot a few minutes
Nigga, we ain’t have dreams of getting Bugattis
Cuzm just beat an attempt, then caught a new body
They tryna hit my youngin’ with like 25
He jumped out broad day, shot ‘em 20 times
A quarter brick of raw; that’s what the Carti’ cost
He ran down on ‘em and made ‘em take the Carti’ off
I was in the prison yard, making prison calls
This bitch don’t answer two times and shе gon’ piss me off
I got’ smoke five sticks just to еase my mind
It must be glue with my Glock, cause it won’t leave my side
Shout out my nigga Stew, he the living truth
If it was a stove in here now, I’d make him cook a deuce
If the stove don’t work then use the microwave
I had to pay my mom bills, fuck Michael J’s
I slide the door back, shoot with the micro Drac’
Ayo, I really played corners with bundles of raw
Bundles of grams, halves of slabs stuck in my draws
Ducking the law, clutching the rod
Ready to—, pft, up it and—, pft, ah
Uh
Dawg Shit Records
Real Rx
Big drug rich, the real one
Uh
[Verse 1]
Just came home, bought a new pendant
Know how you feel when it’s niggas saying you finished
They slid masked up, they don’t know who did it
A hundred round drum, this bitch’ll shoot a few minutes
Nigga, we ain’t have dreams of getting Bugattis
Cuzm just beat an attempt, then caught a new body
They tryna hit my youngin’ with like 25
He jumped out broad day, shot ‘em 20 times
A quarter brick of raw; that’s what the Carti’ cost
He ran down on ‘em and made ‘em take the Carti’ off
I was in the prison yard, making prison calls
This bitch don’t answer two times and shе gon’ piss me off
I got’ smoke five sticks just to еase my mind
It must be glue with my Glock, cause it won’t leave my side
Shout out my nigga Stew, he the living truth
If it was a stove in here now, I’d make him cook a deuce
If the stove don’t work then use the microwave
I had to pay my mom bills, fuck Michael J’s
I slide the door back, shoot with the micro Drac’
Ayo, I really played corners with bundles of raw
Bundles of grams, halves of slabs stuck in my draws
Ducking the law, clutching the rod
Ready to—, pft, up it and—, pft, ah
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