DameDot - RODEO

(Rell On The Track) are you in the mafia?
Am I in the what?
Whatever you wanna call it, organized crime
I'm in the waste management business
Everybody immediately assumes you're
Mobbed up

Top down, chillin' in the summertime
All I see is blue hundreds, bitch
I'm colorblind
The bitch say the pussy for me
'cause she know it's mine
Nigga, I done ran through a
Hundred like a hundred times
Ridin down Rodeo in a Wraith
You might as well say I'm out in space
A thousand miles away and I
Don't feel out of place
I could see thе hate through these
All-whitе buffs on my face
I just counted up a hundred
'bout to count another hundred
I ain't runnin' Dior runners
I'm just fresh as shit
Spray some of that Creed
She wanna lick me like a peppermint
Had to tell her move 'cause, bitch
You can't spill this medicine
All I do is preach on these beats
I'm a reverend
This lil' bitch a freak in the sheets, yeah
She devilish i gotta have at least fifty
Racks if I pop out
How the fuck I got these Jordans
On and they not out?
These hoes raw, wanna fuck you for a shoutout
If I catch a case, we going to trial
Ain't no cop out
Nigga talk spicy, put some sauce on his taco
Throw a nigga bitch back to him, Joe Flacco
I told my ex-bitch, Take a seat
I cuddle with the chopper every
Time I go to sleep a nigga want smoke
We gon' put him in a leaf
I gotta leave them racks in the club
On the floor when I leave
I'm a real live P, come and go as I please
Top down, chillin with a baddie
Her friend with her and they both got a fatty
Yeah, they cute
But I'ma send these hoes to Cincinnati
Don't slam the doors on
This long-sleeve Caddy
She wanna fuck me everywhere
This lil' bitch a savage
I guess I'm like a father figure
Cause she call me daddy
Her nigga think he got some racks
But he never had 'em
Old niggas hating on the youngins
I ain't never understand it
The hoes think I'm rude 'cause
They say I ain't romantic
You give me vibes, if you get in that room
You gon' panic
I'm smokin' on some za, no
This weed ain't organic
I got some fish scale in, not no salmon
I got three cars parked
Outside of the mansion
You used to be that nigga in the hood, bro
What happened?
Ayy, ain't no Lululemon on me
Rich as your big homie
Get some head at the Coney
It was boogers in my Rollie
Then I switched to the AP
Fit cost like eight G's
All my niggas takin' shit to length
We don't take pleas
You would take a cold bitch to the mall
I make her so pleased
My young niggas takin' hit's
They the A Team
Fully on this Glock, seventeen
Make it an eighteen
You just started getting pape' in 2018
Lil' nigga

(Rell)

Written by:
TYRELL HUMPHREY

Publisher:
Lyrics © Songtrust Ave

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