Tj Racks - Tamagotchi

Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah
Let me get my voice right
Yeah
Racksss
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah
Let me get my voice right
Hey
I won't play you girl
I'm never gone treat you like a Tamagotchi
I be riding round with that stick
I'll kill everybody
If I ever hear them
Talking bad about you
Red flowers, black ties
We gone knock the ketchup out you
Whoa Whoa
Put him in the blunt like a 3.5
Got a 30 round drum on this Glock
With some cheese fries
I be getting cheese like cheesecake
We straight
Take a nigga out
Dinner date
6 feet under
All my opps I disintegrate
I done stepped in so much blood
I can't enjoy these red bottoms
Big drip on me
Little nigga I'm the Don Dada
But I ain't worried about my clothes
I need some new choppas
Know I'm sick in the head
Need a head doctor
If you play with my money
I might go fed probably
Federal
Pop pop, get that boy dropped
He gone need medical
RACKSSS
I can be a math professional
I dropped out of school
But some how I'm still intellectual
Yeah yeah
I can go show you how to go and
Get them commas with no problems
These nigga's ain't talking
About no decimals
Fruit, all these banana clips
Turn you into a vegetable
Smoked a nigga
Choppa ate him up like a edible
Racks make em' bow down
If you ever play with me
Swear somebody gone die
Nigga pow pow pow
Got a lick for a fih
On my jugg up town
Get money
Everyday I cash out my cash app
Racks got his cash up
Little boy pull ya racks out
Cheesecake
Nigga got bread, man stand down
I told them boys is you serious
Nigga's really going to end up dead
In the dead land
But I be in the dead zone
That's somewhere you can't go
We gone give the opps a headstone And a halo
Put my bitch in some Channel
Not no rainbow
So that she can see see me
Yeah, hey
I won't play you girl
I'm never gone treat you like a Tamagotchi
I be riding round with that stick
I'll kill everybody
If I ever hear them
Talking bad about you
Red flowers, black ties
We gone knock the ketchup out you
Whoa Whoa
Put him in the blunt like a 3.5
Got a 30 round drum on this Glock
With some cheese fries
I be getting cheese like cheesecake
We straight
Take a nigga out
Dinner date
6 feet under
All my opps I disintegrate
I done stepped in so much blood
I can't enjoy these red bottoms
Big drip on me
Little nigga I'm the Don Dada
But I ain't worried about my clothes
I need some new choppas
Know I'm sick in the head
Need a head doctor

Written by:
Terrione Jackson

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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