M2M Tray5 - Rich Town (feat. Money-making Rich)

All right, bet, you got your strap, we finna ride out
Told the opps, stop playin' before them lil' boys crash out
You can't take my cup, I'ma sip it till I pass out
I gotta take the cheese and the sticks to the stash house

You ain't got my cheese, I'ma fuck around and flip
Why this freaky-ass bitch always tryna suck my dick
I got P's and we finna hit the road I'm out in Cali lookin' for the white boys
get them gone SRT, steppin' off on the Jake's, bitch, we

Gone Like, nigga, y'all can't catch us
You know we up to score, these lil' niggas, they can't catch up
Glock make a, nigga, quiet, you can say I shot a shut-up
You be soundin' like a bitch, I couldn't tell if you was fed up

Can't be nervous on a drill, grab a bottle, start the med up
It get hurtful in the field, grab your pads it's , time to suit up
Better hope the lo ain't far, cause that's gon' give me time to boot up
I be feelin' like a butler, cause I'm always fast to suit up

We the ones be havin' the news up
He thinkin' cause it's 7 AM, we ain't gon' get him, the whole crew up
Brodie in the front, used to this, you can tell just by he sit up
Nigga, hoes they'll , send the drop and hopin' that the feds come

But I'll bust a clip and make sure that they dead so they can come
I got a 30 on this Glock, I'm finna make a pussy fall
It's 4 AM, brown-skinned bitch, tuckin' on my drawers
Cause she tryna eat the dick and lick the balls too

I done fucked a nigga, bitch, I told my brothers they could call you
They need that shit, set a opp up, and just to get a nigga dropped
Put a bad bitch on his head and split a nigga top
My young nigga out here trippin', hit a lick in Gucci socks

I don't got a finger fuck the Glock, I'm finna put a switch on it
Nigga, I don't give a fuck, I'll drop you and your big homie
He in a fishbowl, I'ma fuck around and flip a nigga whip
And I'ma have my lil' brother go and take a nigga, bitch

This thick bitch twerkin' to my song, I know she like my flow
Nigga says on the flow so hurry and drop a low
If you claimin' big fives, hurry up and drop your four
Don't tell me to calm down, be ready to do the most

Scared to tweak with, certain niggas, they be ready to make a post
My nigga's known for towin' chops, might see a clip up out his coat
Y'all be havin' big homies that make y'all scared to make a vote
Y'all did everybody to the ball, that's how all my niggas gon' show it

Movin' like a main character, I love to show off
My bitch bad ass fuck, her ass fat, I fuck that pussy to it blowout
Y'all hang with rap, niggas, and blame twelve and say it's forced out(that's just you)
Mmm, I ain't no rapper, bitch, I'm bendin

Pull up ARP, stop the whip and kill you in your misses, Tray-five, I ain't gon' lie, a nigga trigger, finger itchin
Waitin' for that moment just to catch a pussy nigga slippin
He can't run, he can't hide, I'ma get him

All them bullets flyin' at him, I'm just fuckin' up his denim
It was a closed casket, the pussy ain't seen no spittle, that Boy a middleman, I'ma leave his ass right in the middle
Like where his mans at, fuck Ron and hit him up top
Give his ass a head tap
Niggas cryin' on the gram, lil' nigga, wake your brother up

Written by:
Montray Horton

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find