CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : 2 Player
Lil Rece produced it, Lil Rece produced it
Product of the motherf**kin’ g-a-m-e
In my city, no security, n***a, f**k do you mean?
You ain’t got to play this sh*t, you a b*t*h anyway
Sold it off moowops, weed, and yay
Bounced out so clean, b*t*h had to choose
Never really fixin’ sh*t, but I packed the tool
When I pull out my .50, I act a fool
Sideways through the Point, Molly G, what it do?
And this plate bussdown, it got crabs and sh*t
If you ridin’ dirty, don’t smoke in the whip
Don’t make you a b*t*h, n***a, that make you smart
Stay on your toes, dodge the narks
Real street n***a, you can tell by the lingo
Top down, pearl white, six, I’m on Pico
Used to live on enkos, paper like Kinkos
Three-thousand dollars for the Burberry peacoat
Stuntin’ is the usual
Lil n***a, who is you?
Plottin’ on a m-ball
But I need a few
Thirty motherf**kin’ days
Tryna stacks these f**kin’ leis
Chips, dip, basically you got to pay me
Choppa lined ‘em up, like the barber D. Rose
In a concierge, weed smoke on my clothes
You n***as fake, weird, I can’t f**k with bro
You n***as way too old to be this broke
It’s been a lot of interceptions, we gon’ need a private jet
What’s next? They got houses in the Hill, private chef
Eatin’ good, told the b*t*h slide through for the neck
Like a jail call, b*t*h, I collect
Both cellphones ringin’, and it’s all for a check
‘Bout to knock a teacher b*t*h, just to f**k her on the desk
If I text back quick, baby, you blessed
Sexy ass b*t*h, all she know is finesse, numbers
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
God damn
Sock it to me
Product of the motherf**kin’ g-a-m-e
In my city, no security, n***a, f**k do you mean?
You ain’t got to play this sh*t, you a b*t*h anyway
Sold it off moowops, weed, and yay
Bounced out so clean, b*t*h had to choose
Never really fixin’ sh*t, but I packed the tool
When I pull out my .50, I act a fool
Sideways through the Point, Molly G, what it do?
And this plate bussdown, it got crabs and sh*t
If you ridin’ dirty, don’t smoke in the whip
Don’t make you a b*t*h, n***a, that make you smart
Stay on your toes, dodge the narks
Real street n***a, you can tell by the lingo
Top down, pearl white, six, I’m on Pico
Used to live on enkos, paper like Kinkos
Three-thousand dollars for the Burberry peacoat
Stuntin’ is the usual
Lil n***a, who is you?
Plottin’ on a m-ball
But I need a few
Thirty motherf**kin’ days
Tryna stacks these f**kin’ leis
Chips, dip, basically you got to pay me
Choppa lined ‘em up, like the barber D. Rose
In a concierge, weed smoke on my clothes
You n***as fake, weird, I can’t f**k with bro
You n***as way too old to be this broke
It’s been a lot of interceptions, we gon’ need a private jet
What’s next? They got houses in the Hill, private chef
Eatin’ good, told the b*t*h slide through for the neck
Like a jail call, b*t*h, I collect
Both cellphones ringin’, and it’s all for a check
‘Bout to knock a teacher b*t*h, just to f**k her on the desk
If I text back quick, baby, you blessed
Sexy ass b*t*h, all she know is finesse, numbers
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
God damn
Sock it to me
