8 Mile Ray - Pape Disorder

energy made this one
Alright
I'm talking to a lame, I'm like, tell me what you do with soft
I think he cappin', so I had to turn his music off
If I want it, I'ma get it, I ain't broke, I never do the cost
Bring a bitch back to the crib, then she gettin' tossed
All them other niggas frauds, yeah, they still in sauce
If unky front a couple P's, can you get it off
Amiri Polo off the slacks like I'm playin' golf
Bro threw the ball, bitch, I caught it like I'm Randy Moss
Beat Groovy made my shoulder do that one shit
Lil' bro shoot a hit, squeeze until the gun click
And nah, it ain't no regular 30, he got the one switch
Niggas dirty fuckin' on runners, they got that one itch,
Separate the huns from my 20s, got my pape in order
I heard you scared to make some money, got a pape disorder
Told Lil to punch it off the site, cause I hate the order
I heard the opps on they block, I'm finna drop a mortar
Got in my duffy shit, I had to get my change up
Might fuck around and go to hasty, get my frames bust
Might get that nigga out the way, he bring my name up
Shoutout to the rich, niggas throw your chain up
What up, Rucci
86 shit
You had some paper for a second, I can see you fucked that run up
It's only me, you ain't see I got this nine if you run up
I get it in through the night, all the way until the sun up
This is for my real niggas who out here in that field, hold your guns up
Me and Rucci on a song, they wanna hear us on the stereo
Got some headless from Apple, got me dancin' like I'm Terrio
I'm like Kodak, if I see the wrong face, I'm like, there he go
Niggas cap it like they havin' him, his man's wear the same clothes
She playin' Bougie, now she mad, I keep actin' with a friend at
I'm in this dude, need a verse, where the fuck that nigga bands at
I'm tryna fuck, I'm not in no small talk, I can't stand that
I just need to see it shipped and guaranteed I'ma land that
Niggas bitches gettin' they feelings, get the crying bout a hoe
I got niggas that got switches while I'm tryna flip a bo
I swear I really throw that shit on from my shoulder, knees to toes
You put a bag in my hand and I swear I get it gone
Frog splashin' in the foreign, it's 200 in this coupe
It's all blues in my pocket, sippin' rose out the roof
I'm my own boss, can't no nigga tell me what to do
Just say goodbye to your girl if I let her meet my crew
86, shit
What up, Rucci

Written by:
Ray .

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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