lirik lagu idk – real boston richey
[intro]
yeah, yeah, yeah, n*gga, richey
man, i pop my sh*t and i do whatever
n0body gon’ stop sh*t
(known to let that mac fly just like my n*gga doe, baow)
[chorus]
let that mac fly, i get my turned up b*tch from my boy doe boy
i’m double r, they call me richey rich, ain’t no rolls*royce
spot my b*tch from out the crowd yellin’ my name, i know my hoe’s voice
two b*tches tryna sandwich me, tryna treat me like a po’ boy
crackers kicked my door in, i don’t even know sh*t
i ain’t even sold sh*t, i ain’t sold no bricks
my b*tch tryna ask me ’bout my whereabouts, i ain’t been with no b*tch
even though i know i’m slidin’ with g, bein’ on that ho sh*t
[verse 1]
tone, me, and renkеn, we slidin’, n*gga, that’s ’bout four switch
we all f*cked thе same b*tch, she done took ’bout four d*cks
cut her off, she put me in her close friends, i ain’t in no mix
had a mission set up by the club, i’m lookin’ like, “where my ho went?”
like, d*mn, bae, you did me like that? i should’ve blocked your ass
set a rich n*gga up, b*tch, i would’ve bought a bag
your last n*gga was cappin’ ‘fore he seen boston, i got all the cash
post three hundred on the ‘gram, they be like, “where his flossin’ ass?”
n*gga, i can take some pain, only pain i lost a bag
n*gga say he want some smoke, f*ck ’round, leave him coughin’ bad
thuggin’ on the block with the older n*ggas, that’s where i got my swag
f*cked her at my mama house, that’s why the b*tch just walked out fast
[chorus]
let that mac fly, i get my turned up b*tch from my boy doe boy
i’m double r, they call me richey rich, ain’t no rolls*royce
spot my b*tch from out the crowd yellin’ my name, i know my hoe’s voice
two b*tches tryna sandwich me, tryna treat me like a po’ boy
crackers kicked my door in, i don’t even know sh*t
i ain’t even sold sh*t, i ain’t sold no bricks
my b*tch tryna ask me ’bout my whereabouts, i ain’t been with no b*tch
even though i know i’m slidin’ with g, bein’ on that ho sh*t
[verse 2]
gotta keep my nina on me ’cause these n*ggas be on some poor sh*t
freestyle all my sh*t in the booth, n*gga, i never wrote sh*t
know i’m in that mode when i’m out here juggin’, i don’t even post sh*t
i be out here juggin’ weed, girl, and boy, and more sh*t
hit the store to buy some bags, foreign car, the low stick
i ain’t dappin’ them n*ggas up, i don’t even know jit
f*cked a b*tch from the north side, from the back, i screamed out, “4 sh*t”
don’t let her find out where you stay, that’s how you get your door kicked
[chorus]
let that mac fly, i get my turned up b*tch from my boy doe boy
i’m double r, they call me richey rich, ain’t no rolls*royce
spot my b*tch from out the crowd yellin’ my name, i know my hoe’s voice
two b*tches tryna sandwich me, tryna treat me like a po’ boy
crackers kicked my door in, i don’t even know sh*t
i ain’t even sold sh*t, i ain’t sold no bricks
my b*tch tryna ask me ’bout my whereabouts, i ain’t been with no b*tch
even though i know i’m slidin’ with g, bein’ on that ho sh*t
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