lirik lagu rushin – patrick cc:
[verse 1: najjee]
she know my life is exotic
foreign whip pouring on mileage
she wanna step into p*rn, outta the norm
she just graduated college
i’m stretching my dollars
from the muhf*ckin’ top to the bottom
run the streets, got the murder rate risin’
switch the sim, i just swap out verizon
never denying, a n*gga been running sh*t
call me daddy, she don’t know my government
and it’s double that’s all on my bubble
fake friends in the huddle so f*ck being humble, b*tch
gotta watch like i stepped over mud or sh*t
gotta watch like i stepped on the moon now
they say, “you too high, you should cool down,”
wanna copy my style for the new sound
keep trapping, now all of my brothers rich
keep trapping, my mama need income
they say i make hit after hit and these b*tches is lit
two options, i pick one
got my pot on the stove and it’s bubbling
if i see me an opp, imma split sum
police just came home, raided my phone for a drill, like, “which gun?”
we just gon bring all this pain on the opps when they mention my name
and now n*ggas is dead
40 below’s got the drop from a shawty
her heart getting cold over dollars and bread
i do not know bout the [?], but i know bout these streets
and the police wanna go through my head
asking me questions, you know what i said
asking me questions, you know what i said
i said nothing, i said nothing
keep that pistol, i ain’t bluffin’
yes, my heart so cold, i ain’t cuffin’
and i never stop trapping, tell all my n*ggas get it
tell all my n*ggas get it and we rushin’
[verse 2: tre$o]
rushin’
i got that stick in my bag, it’s a russian
smoking that gas out the ‘wood, it’s a rush
smoking exotic, i’m high, man, i’m rushin’
rushin’, rushin’
when this stick hit he gon’ get a concussion
and that ain’t no wocky you sippin’, no tussin
i put a bag on his head, backdoor, rush it
she see them commas, i’m countin’ obamas
we strapped at the ‘bnb, yeah we got llamas
they sleeping on ‘$o, i make hits in pajamas
i’m young and i’m handsome, might f*ck on your mama, fo sho
pat cc got me rapping in here
boy, these diamonds i keep ’round, no glass in my ear
plain white tee, give a f*ck about fashion in here
boy don’t play cuz i will clank the ratchet in here
hold on, hold on
[verse 3: tre$o]
and i don’t say sorry, i meant what i said
i sip on that water, then hop out the bed
double c, we locked in ’til the end
and i keep making hits, i keep making it happen
and i want a benz but i dream bout the aston
it’s hard to stay mad when that money keep stackin’
i might sign a deal and get rich off of backends
i know soldiers that spin in corollas
they just want a benz, they just want a rover
they swiping them bands, they slumping folks over
they leave with no witnesses, only jehovah
yeah, i smoke that zaza and i smoke that doja
and my brother put the jolly’s in his soda
and i just hit johnny up for a quarter
when i get the exo chain, boy, its over
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