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punk rock - frank beats & rio da yung og lyrics

[intro]
yeah
ghetto
yeah
shoutout frank beats, man, we in this b*tch makin’ history
where we at now?
aight

[verse]
this beat hard, but i’ll rip this b*tch acapella
ask my b*tch sister, “can we f*ck?”, i am not gon’ tell her
b*tch left two weeks ago, i am not gon’ sweat her
five thousand in the louis store and i just got a sweater
last month, was f*cked up, i got myself together
rain, sleet, or snow, i’ll stand on this in any weather
punk rock with the chop, might paint my nails black
this b*tch got so much kick, almost fell back
i’m finna rock out
she walked in the bathroom, when she came out, i had my c*ck out
but i ain’t f*ck the b*tch, i just got mouth
i’m in the lamb’ truck, this b*tch screamin’ like it got a mouth
you in that small ass two*bedroom, that is not a house, that’s a tool shed
baby ghost innocent, f*ck what dude said, uh
balenciaga shirt on with some rhude pants
rap hustlin’, i been up for four days like a ‘oothead, but i don’t ‘oot soft
bro dropped a hundred shots, i got a deuce off, but i was up close
he jumped out with a guitar, sound like a drumroll
the opps dropped some sh*t harder than the rock, but they some punks though
you get it? punk rock
the caught him with his baby momma, got his son shot, aye
quick question: how many bodies do your gun got?
i’m like mj, i slam dunk the b*tch with my tongue out
molotov in the window, we just waitin’ on them to run out
everybody gettin’ shot when they come out
i ain’t drop my hardest album yet, it’s finna come out
every time lil bro see some janky sh*t, he whip his gun out, that’s his reflex
he hopped out with a stick, but not a tree branch
i got two hundred racks for a weed strand
i made a million dollars last month, your baby daddy is a weed man, you can’t compare us
this b*tch p*ssy tighter than a bear hug
i’ma shoot you in your sh*t, we not gon’ square up
p*ssy so good, after we f*ck, i lit a square up, it was that good
he rode past the house, we put a hundred in the back of it, made him hit a tree
we ain’t gon’ pop him, we gon’ kidnap his ass and make him sip some bleach
don’t like tris ’cause that sh*t taste like listerine
i gotta drink it, that’s the only drink ’round, sh*t, i’m still a fiend
yesterday, was in the big apple, now we in the beam
i got a gen5 glock, bro, i need a switchy thing
i made dog sh*t, a million dollars cash is not rich to me
just know, you gotta get through ten n*ggas just to get to me
a n*gga tried me two weeks ago, but that’s history
i gave her five hundred, f*cked her like a dog, she think she trickin’ me
i’ll be done brought a random b*tch a rollie, that’s the trick in me
sold a thousand cell phones to my vietnamese
you gotta hit him in his head if you hear him breathe
two to the head, that’s how you know he dead
we gon’ tie his ass up if he owe me bread

- frank beats rio da yung og lyrics

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