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lirik lagu genre of spice talk – krispylife kidd & rmc mike

[intro: krispylife kidd & rmc mike]
alright
krispylife, n*gga, it’s with a k, dumbass
b*tch
ghetto boyz, n*gga, free rio

[verse 1: krispylife kidd]
he live with his granny, so we still gon’ shoot it up
bullet hit her oxygen tank, we done blew it up
i just ate a bad perc’ and i threw it up
where your b*tch at? she in the room with it tooted up
mike just took one of my percs, he do too much
bro don’t wanna ride with me ’cause i shoot too much
every time you say some lame sh*t, you lose two sl*ts
me and mike just matched two fours, y’all got a deuce of what?

[verse 2: rmc mike]
f*ck the b*tch for twenty*six minutes, then throw the deuces up
i’m tryna ball, you tryna ball too, you wanna hoop, or what?
no, i can’t tell you what i got up in my stash, but i’m super*up
d*mn, kidd, i’m finna go to jail, i shot an uber up
auntie can’t buy no dope from me, she don’t oot enough
ooh, b*tch got a pink p*ssy on her, but got a doo*doo b*tt
catch his ass lackin’ right on mackin, call doodlebug
how the f*ck you mad at my success and you don’t do enough?
[verse 3: krispylife kidd & rmc mike]
made d*boy nervous rappin’ with the strap out
let off a hundred fifty shots, made him back down
i just beat a b*tch back and made her tap out
i just beat a b*tch back and blew her back out
i’m shootin’ this b*tch from deep, i think— yeah, f*ck that
nah, kidd, i’m finna shoot this b*tch from deep, i’m jerry stackhouse
drop me off around the corner, i got they whole block mapped out
i think he died from shootin’ dice, i guess he cr*pped out
d*mn, who want beef with us?
i’m in the club crispy as h*ll with a fully tucked
copped a new watch, it’s not plain, this b*tch fully bust
caught dog with his pants down, now he truly f*cked
man, i don’t like switches, but got a k problem
he gettin’ in pints once a month, i got a straight doctor
ours called sh*t*talkin’, y’all got a straight genre
money long as h*ll, we ain’t never havin’ pape’ problems
i just got twelve pints from a fake doctor
i’m finna give them b*tches straight to stan
gave a n*gga six bars for an eight of red
i won’t pay for the p*ssy, but i’ll pay for head
d*mn, my oldhead just shoot this b*tch, he lebron james
sl!ck talker, i’ll talk your b*tch, danny fontaine
put these clippers to your head, that’s a wild fade
backdoor to hit my n*gga b*tch, that’s a foul play
i put my nuts all in her cream, that’s a parfait
meet a b*tch and play mind games like an arcade
nah, meet a b*tch and hit her in the car, this a car date
spin a block in an old lincoln, this a mark viii
nah, mike, the chop long as f*ck like a mark 8
nah, bro, this audi fast as f*ck, this an r8
left a stink bomb in his car, ooh
left a stink bomb in his whip, now the car stink
i think i just drunk some cut, now all my farts stink
he pulled up in a v6, i think his car fake
left so much money on the floor, we need a yard rake, we gotta rake it up
two thirty clips looked it better, so i taped ’em up
we the hottest in our city, so they hate on us
i just re*rocked the bag with some angel dust
n*ggas playin’ like some little kids, get his lego crushed
yeah, i just poured another twelve in a faygo crush
i’ll never show no love, n*ggas hate too much
b*tch seen my account like, “kidd, how you make so much?”
hit his head with a hollow and make his bagel crunch
wockhardt, tris, i can make your punch
made 60k in one weekend, i can’t make this up
hit him one time and he died, that’s a fatal punch
[outro: krispylife kidd]
b*tch
and that wasn’t mike either
yeah
rmc sh*t, krispylife sh*t
free rio, n*gga, free da’mario [?]
b*tch

- krispylife kidd rmc mike

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