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Correction Lyrics
Unemployment
by
Rio Da Yung OG
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The f**kin' drank made my throat dry What up, Ca$hes? Good lookin' on that too I'm back, n***a (Stupid Dog, I ain't gon' lie, this b*t*h hard) Ca$hes called me with Hi-Tech, this feel like a dream My b*t*h made me breakfast and head, I feel like a king Clear cream soda red as f**k, it look like a beam Odell put his hands on me this morning, so I'm kinda mean RPs and prometh' codeine 'cause I love itchin' Shot him in his head on a mistake, bro, my gun trippin' Inhalin' crack cocaine as a kid, my lungs different Tell security he can't check my coat, I got a gun in it Off an RP, rollin' Sunday Paper on a Tuesday Twenty off of fraud, still ain't add up what the blues made n***a think he Superman, this FN turn to doomsday My b*t*h was trippin' hard, I punched her Fendi slides with no shoelace The 'bows been gone for two days, the house still stinkin' Barry out in Cali shootin' plays, b*t*h, I'm still crankin' f**k dreams, my n***as chasin' chicken, we the real chasers Guns in the club, that ain't a strobe light, that's a real laser (King) Whole team gettin' money, you can come and join us Do the math, fifty blues and a hundred oranges I ain't gon' say what we made off unemployment Just turned a four of Tris 'cause I wanted Morton Just turned down Lucky's 'cause I wanted Morton's Everybody got pape', you just unimportant Ugly-ass big B's, that's a couple Jordans A four of Tech in the pop, that's a n***a mortgage Off-White hat, shirt, and socks, I'm fresh as f**k I just sold an Off-White block for seventy bucks Sometimes I hope a n***a f**k my b*t*h so she can set him up He gon' think the b*t*h squirted how I wet him up Odell got me M'd against the wall, he won't let me up Your ho be throwin' ass, but I know the b*t*h for catchin' nut I'm petty, finna hit a white ball, batter up A drophead Benz, a Hellcat, and a Caddy truck Dog, your name ain't ringin' bells, n***a, kill the noise Black bottom by the Faygo, I was posted on Illinois Got a problem, I ain't even worried 'bout it, just send them boys .223s go through houses and bodies, you can't heal them boys We gon' spin a block again just to finish boy We spin the drop on Joy, had a play right on Livernois I wouldn't even post that sh*t, swear that's lil' pape' Ghetto boy, turnaround for fast money, swear we all straight I just punched a suite at the Westin In Cali with a n***a baby mama and her best friend It ain't ever pressure, we the pressers Black boy on my tee, Heron Preston It feel like 2017 when that Tech in The glizzy kickin' like it's Eddy off of Tekken The bag in, I ain't thinkin' 'bout a press kit I poured a deuce and sold a quarter 'bow for breakfast I heard drank still a hundred down in Texas sh*t, bring me twelve pints so I can stretch 'em You want the pills, give me a week, I gotta press 'em Just left the set with more belts than a heavyweight wrestler Mack broke the whole bag down, ain't got a petty bond We all touched a ten at that drive-thru right on petty bond Line bangin' hard, give me 50K, I'll sell a phone Run up a dub, ain't leave the block, you would've thought I had a tether on Got the fake ID machine, now I'm sellin' phones And I ain't goin' down on my price, this sh*t set in stone Opiates got me movin' slow like a wedding song Young dog an artist, you can tell when the weapons drawn
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