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lirik lagu riley – mello buckzz

[intro: riley freeman]
yeah, yeah, my name is riley son
but you know, n*ggas call me, aka, riley escobar, ya know i’m sayin?
cause i be in the streets, ya know?
i got all kinds of names like, hr paperstacks
uh, also known as aka horse choker
uh, aka pillsbury doughboy (haven this sh*t crank)
aka louis rich (n*gga)
yeah

[verse 1: mello buckzz]
what? aye!
smokin’ on za zas and dolce gabbana
we can get wild in this b*tch if you wanna
purse give me stamina, b*tch, like i’m stunna
yo’ n*ggas only come out in the summer
light up low bar, b*tch, you bring out the thunder
i didn’t have it out when i was younger
now i’m gettin’ money, i’m chasin’ them commas
turned to a savage, grew up in a jungle
stupid hoe just want a purse and some bundles
on top of my sh*t and i’m never gon’ fumble
i hang with them n*ggas, they ready to rumble
b*tch i’m up next, i just gotta stay humble
i’m chasing a bag and you chasing these n*ggas
you b*tches will bust off a dime and some liquor (they boring)
my brothers, they lurking, they busting off jiggas
bust at yo’ frame and knock you out the picture (for real?)
i am so cold and i’m only gettin’ sicker
late night i stay close that pole like a stripper (i can’t go)
stripes on my ass so he callin’ me tigger
hoes on my line, but i do not pick up (decline)
they see me in person and tell me to “fl!ck up”
put it on the plate and he ate it for dinner (ate it up)
i’m in my bag and you b*tches is bitter
i just ran it up and i’m tryna get richer
just ran it up and i’m tryna get richer
seeing opps now, we gon’ dump at them b*tches (pow)
back shot, leg shot, leg shot (haven this sh*t crank), head shot, n*gga got popped in his dreadlock
riding with a g*lock, n*gga tried to run, but he tripped in them fat ass fila’s
give a f*ck about sh*t, on a hoe i can’t trip
i can never love a n*gga, all you n*ggas gettin’ skipped
i’m a pretty ghetto b*tch, get the 30 on grip
and you know i’m real protected, keep a hollow in the clip
i be smokin’ out the zip, know a b*tch stay dipped (dipped)
if a car get to tweaking then that b*tch get flipped
smoking on debby, k
choking in (k) the back seat heavy, baked (what? baked)
ya new b*tch jealous, hate (hate)
a b*tch stay wet like michigan, lake
ay, act like you wit’ it but n*ggas be duckin’ im tired of these n*ggas they bluffin’ (frontin’)
internet savage, but we know the truth (haven this sh*t crank), ain’t none of ya’ll n*ggas on nothing (nah, nah, nah)
flipping in traffic, ain’t ducking no action
we ride with that static, get shot like a addict
shoot for a habit, you n*ggas gon’ panic if my n*gga gotta get mixed like a salad
pull up, do damage them bl!cks will get managed that 30 speak spanish and make n*ggas vanish
i roll a wood, that b*tch spark like a cannon
i got the mail, that sh*t came in the package
give out free smoke if you want it i got it
i don’t do no bluffin’, f*ck n*gga i’m ’bout it
post up on ess*x, you get redirected
if you ain’t from ’round here, don’t step in my presence (at all, at all, at all, at all)
d*mn, n*ggas can’t step in my presence?
nope, ya new b*tch is broke and she jealous
for sure, i’m young and i’m wild and i’m reckless, gang
i’m ready for war, come and test me
[verse 2: nlmb jdot]
dot got the neck, p*ssy squeezing on sight (ah, ah)
24 hollows, they stuffed in my pipe (boom, boom)
[?] in my hands but i [?] stripes (yeah)
fresh than a b*tch, but i’m fly like a kite
and i got k!llers, got ks like russians
blowin’ on sight, ain’t no need for no fussing (grah, grah)
cash apps with yo thot and i bet she’ll be blushing (she blushing)
she bop in the whip, giving top, ain’t no cuffing (uh)
dash in the ‘rari, my foreigns, they custom (skrrt, skrrt)
roll up exotic means runtz with the gusherz
you know if i slip, then i’m bumming with tagger (with tagger, with tagger)
fly off the scene, left that a disaster (grah, grah, grah)
n*ggas get ghost, then i turn into casper (casper)
don’t want yo bop cause i already trashed her (already trashed her)
i got them keys but don’t play piano (piano)
b*tt naked b*tches, they trappin’ in sandals
trappers and k!llers don’t hang with the scammers (scammers)
packs coming ’round, got me feeling like santa (santa)
she in face so i throw temper tantrums (throw temper tantrums)
if we get the low, then my tag get some campers
if we get the low, then my tag get some campers (oh f*ck man)

- mello buckzz

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