Lyrics

Yeah Real Rx Yeah Walk in this bitch with prescription pills It ain't got no seal, I'ma sip it still Glick in my hand like, "Be still" You move wrong, you could be killed Walked in like the king of the hill Draco sound like Boomhauer These niggas move like true cowards In my Girbauds a few thousand Glock loaded, I ain't gotta cock it Money rag hanging while I'm in Compton What's cracking with you, cuz? Heard you got that ratchet with you, cuz Boy, you must think I'm a stupid fuck Bitches slide on me, cuz There ain't no way I'm lacking, cuz Up this bitch and back 'em up Talk stupid, pack him up Paramedics wrap him up Glick on me for any occasion Glock make a nigga speak Jamaican My head hurt, where the Percs at? Make a nigga take a dirt nap I walk in this bitch like, "Hold it down" Drac' got her titties done, fifty rounds Glock got a stick hanging out Bend the corner in the whip, hanging out He fresh as fuck, he bought the new Js I'm tryna knock the nigga outta 'em Nigga, I'm higher than a bitch I'm so high I see cuz I grab my Glock like, "What the fuck?" They say, "Pap, you a fucking bug" They blame it on the pills and the mud They say I ain't shit, still give me love It's fake but they still give me hugs They still smile when they dap me up Talk about me when I'm out of earshot Point blank range, got a clear shot Head tap and give him an earshot Niggas move like Undercover Brother Papi just a dirty motherfucker Grew up on the East, nobody loved him He don't need to know how to love nobody Run down like Treyway, Papi Shotti I don't know what he said but I shot him Beam on his head, I got him They say with braids I look like Rocky Walk in this bitch like the Shower Posse I'm high as fuck, I'm out my body I don't know where the fuck I parked my Audi If you want a deal, then don't even call me The opps mad, they super salty I don't really like doing no hooks I dish that rock like a no-look These niggas do not hit no juggs I'm strapped to the teeth when I'm in the hood I made so much money on the block I made way more money than my opps I say my grace at the pot Open the safe with my Glock I can't let them take what I got Bitch, I had to slang for my spot Real Rx, who gon' say I'm not? Bitch say the wrong thing, they getting shot Glock in my hand, I'm Fetty Wap Spoon in my hand, I'm Betty Crock Cook crack in the spaghetti pot Top rope, Spike Dudley with the leg drop I beat that work with a egg-beater Cool it off, throw the plate in the freezer Cold water running from the sink, leaking Auntie don't know how to move discretely Brillo pads all on the fucking counter Ain't no money machine on the counter I don't need a money machine to count up Cuz at the table loading rounds up Spin on the opps, finna do a round-up They say I paint the picture so vivid Nigga, this not a picture I'm tryna paint I'm tryna tell you how the fuck I'm living Rap good but I still hit licks Still I up the Glock and take your shit Still bring Auntie off of stims Still in the hood, it is what it is They say, "Papi, one day you gon' get a deal" Yeah, whatever, you still ain't getting no deal I got weed, hard, soft, and pills Make one call, I'll be there
Writer(s): Chester Roscoe, Carl-mikael Goeran Berlander Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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