album cover
OFF-RAP
6,276
On Tour
Hip-Hop/Rap
OFF-RAP was released on January 10, 2025 by #Boyz Entertainment LLC / EMPIRE as a part of the album RIO FREE
album cover
Release DateJanuary 10, 2025
LanguageEnglish
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rio Da Yung OG
Rio Da Yung OG
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Damario Donshay Horne-Mccullough
Damario Donshay Horne-Mccullough
Songwriter
Dwayne William Moore
Dwayne William Moore
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Wayne616
Wayne616
Producer
Skyler Gibbons
Skyler Gibbons
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

[Intro]
Lito, what up, my ****?
Lito Wayne, bitch
Yeah, alright, what up, Wayne?
Yeah, boy, hmm
Mm, yeah, alright, yeah, yeah
I'm in a million dollar house off rap, mean I'm tryna rap, alright
[Verse 1]
1.2 just to be exact
Fuck around and blanked out, I just took a Xact
Bitch, when the feds grab me, I ain't look back
In the Gucci store, spent six racks, didn't get a book bag
Right now, I'm high off a lot of drank, I just look mad
That **** ain't got dog shit, that's why he look sad
Fuck around and put an apron on in my cook bag
Go for the interception with the drank, I know Snook mad
Some telling me to do a hook bad
But I'm still in my punch bag, you know, hook, jab
Sprite, damn, they're gone, on my cup, man
Left in the Maybach even though I had a bus pass
He went to jail and got gated, won't get enough ass
Heard a **** took your cell phone, you know that look bad
Don't give a fuck how much this jacket cost, I ain't putting it back
Mike say today I missed a shot and he put it back
Trish with the Quake getting taste like glass red
That night them **** throw my jewelry, I was half dead
I popped three 30s, drunk and ate, and took a half Xan
Bro, I'm still paranoid, that's why I bag in
Where the fuck you get that gun from? Is that a MAC-10?
I seen a **** throw his life away 'cause he ain't have hands
Ask me, 'Am I getting money?' Look at Cass' pants
My son got on some Amiris with a Roll in 'em
[Verse 2]
Panty on, he seven years old, ****
I don't buy diamonds no more, I'm a gold digger
Ten mil' chunky, but the .45 hold bigger
Bitch pussy hole loose, we stuck a pole in her
If y'all listen to my tape, I'll put my soul in it
Tomorrow I'm wearing Flax, I might pop out like a old ****
Broke precise with that Glock, he a dome hitter
Oh, you tryna talk shit? I'm the wrong ****
[Verse 3]
Aye, Mike, come here real quick, bring your phone with you
This white boy tryna give us ten and send a song to him
I just know your phone slap, you got my old number
I think like an old jeep, but my soul younger
A thousand horses in this bitch, can't keep control of it
That house and the, aye, aye, Ree, how much you owe? Nothing
Let's talk about Flint, got twenty-four of 'em
Stop worrying 'bout what I do and go own somethin'
[Verse 4]
Twenty-nine hundred for the chrome joggy
Promoters on some bullshit, let's throw our own party
Crazy, I got dog shit and don't own Cartis
Ain't got enough to buy the Hellcat, but I don't wanna charge it
My brother tryna get some drink, I don't wanna charge him
Oh, bro, you on the verse? Give me four thousand
What V? Say we already big, but finna go larger
This bracelet right here is twenty-four thousand
****, fuck your OG, I got my own mama
Three prime to five karat, make it look harder
I'm finna put it on every chain, make 'em look harder
Smash the gas in the TRX, I got a foot problem
Now that **** feet stink, he need some foot powder
We ain't got no slugs in here, all buckshotters
I know a **** with some money, never took shots
How the fuck I get indicted? I don't even know how to cook powder
[Outro]
What the fuck?
Written by: Damario Donshay Horne-Mccullough, Dwayne William Moore
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