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lirik lagu rpg – luci4

i don’t give f*ck hoe, you ain’t really hurt me
gold chain on got me feeling like im xerxes
i don’t trust myself whenever i be off the perkys
make a wrong move, turn yo ass in some jerky
you’s a b*tch you is snitch*snitchin
you don’t drill sh*t, nah, you not with it
catch his ass with a whole fitted
there’s money on your head i’mma get it lil n*gga

see your dead homies in the gun smoke
talking all that sh*t, you don’t even tote
you can get fried egg*egg yolk
and i’m reckless cuz my life is a b*tch

[?] broad day with the ks
you gon’ pull up on me, n*ggas know spr*spray
givе a f*ck bout your life, i don’t care about myself
do not flеx on the net, you get robbed for your wealth
throw your wheels on my belt, you should k!ll yourself
want beef? ok, you get drilled on the l
wanna beef with me, do you feel yourself?
you get left in the snow like an elf. with no team
on them b’s i’mma squeeze if a b*tch n*gga need it
(better watch your hoe cuz that b*tch’ll get skeeted)

you better be in park when we get to robbin’
those street l!cks, now your mama gon be sobbin’
i’m really with the drama, what’s the problem
if you want beef then we pull up get to droppin’
gang bangin high, when i pressure you fold
see your chain hangin, n*gga that’s a [] ripoff
in the max payne and you n*ggas just on a hoe
and you n*ggas goin where you shouldn’t have to be told

you get cut just like an ankle, n*gga forgi’s on my ankles
n*gga you be tellin’ fables, you’s a p*ssy that’s a label
i’ma juice him like a [?] if i find out you betray us
smoke an orange, smoke a […?…]

tryna get filthy rich
i don’t got a fifty clip

f*ck out with that beggar sh*t you knew that we was bummin’
riding on the opps, you know the whole pack gunnin’
i can’t help my chest, my f*ckin heart not pumping
lean in my stomach, bruh you know i’m not bluffin’
i’m oding (ah, sh*t) i’m oding (ah, sh*t)
i bust a hundred shots and a n*gga fleeing
in the [?] cuz i’m not a human being
cuz where i be in is a trap, you n*ggas dreamin’

lil n*gga do you know who i run with
not even a gang, i got spirits make them slugs hit
if you want smoke, you get put in the oven
b*tch 3500 so i’m out in the club sh*t
i don’t think them motherf*ckers get along
smokin’ on your dead homies out the bong
keep the .45 in the backpack cuz you took too long
close my eyes and i see h*ll, do not ask me what’s wrong
most my n*ggas buzz, and they marching for they set
i got so much homies, guarantee they leave you wet
n*ggas false claiming till they hoe*ass get checked
you thought i was riffing till them slugs hit your chest
i don’t sip no triple sec, my n*gga i sip lean
i can see the […]
b*tch i’m f*ckin’ crazy cuz there’s problems with my genes
and i’m runnin’ from this beam

you’s a p*ssy, my heart colder
think you buck but 4jay bolder
standing on the block, rpg on my shoulder
pull up to your party with the choppers and the rover

b*tch

- luci4

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