lirik lagu million dolla mouthpiece – real recognize rio
[intro]
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ayy
ayy, ayy, pew, pew, pew, pew (ayy, this dee low with then 808s?)
yeah, yeah, look (dee low, where you get them 808s? them b*tches hot)
[verse 1]
i’m tired of this chain, ’bout to go and buy another one
my main b*tch, ’cause her friend, i’ve been f*ckin’ her, i f*ck ’em and i’m duckin’
on god, these pity ass hoes ain’t sh*t, so i hope you ain’t trustin’ ’em
ain’t sh*t either, so i can’t be mad at ’em
n*gga throwin’ shots, i’ma throw somethin’ back at him
y’all n*ggas rupaul, triple going overhaul
one foot on they neck, another foot on the gas pedal
money gettin’ long, i can get a n*gga touched now
n*gga still sleepin’ on the kid, put the cup down
triple r, zone 6, n*gga like to touchdown
rollie watch bust down, ho wanna f*ck now
heard you still stayin’ with the b*tch, gettin’ kushed out
you ain’t pass sh*t, so she quick to put your stuff out
broke ass n*gga usin’ wifi at your buddy house
ain’t got nowhere to go, so now you sleepin’ on your buddy couch
[chorus]
million dollar mouthpiece, y’all n*ggas talk sh*t
triple gon’ pop that sh*t, ayy
n*ggas know what’s up with me, you know that you can’t f*ck with me
you might as well cut off your d*ck
shots hit his car and they cut off his whip
i heard what you said, i’ma cut off your lips
your b*tch p*ssy good, i’ma nut off the rip
shut a n*gga block down, get the f*ck off the strip, ayy
[verse 2]
somebody call elliot, i need me some heavy sh*t
diamonds in my watch that’s like elvis presley
triple got his blade in the club like wesley
swervin’ in the demon, d*mn near hit a pedestrian
triple r gang, prices lower than a mexican
triple fat n*gga, but get flyer than a pelican
ride a foreign truck, i’m in the front like an elephant
countin’ dirty money, but i’m fresher than a peppermint
every pocket buff, i don’t need a pair of cartier
they slow my young boy in the club, end up 38
i heard he still hatin’ on a n*gga and he 48
n*gga probably mad ’cause i skeeted in his daughter face
walkin’ wells fargo, b*tch, i got the bank on me
popeye, cleaner than a b*tch, ain’t a stain on me
million dollar n*gga with no watch or no chain on me
n*gga throwin’ shots at the kid, put a name on it
[interlude]
p*ssy
yeah, n*gga, put a name on that sh*t, n*gga
stop talkin’ all that sh*t, n*gga, you comin’ sideways, come direct, n*gga
i ain’t gon’ see that sh*t, you feel what i’m sayin’? haha
scary ass n*gga, b*tch, triple in this motherf*cker, n*gga
bring that motherf*cker back in, yeah, ayy
[chorus]
million dollar mouthpiece, y’all n*ggas talk sh*t
triple gon’ pop that sh*t
n*ggas know what’s up with me, you know that you can’t f*ck with me
you might as well cut off your d*ck
shots hit his car and they cut off his whip
i heard what you said, i’ma cut off your lips
your b*tch p*ssy good, i’ma nut off the rip
shut a n*gga block down, get the f*ck off the strip
[verse 3]
yeah, triple mr. t in this b*tch rockin’ thirty chains
i ain’t got a mohawk, waves all in my fade
mj slam, dunk your b*tch, then fadeaway
triple gang n*gga got the juice like minute maid
y’all n*ggas b*tches, trippin’ ’cause you got a pistol
when i see you, i’ma up the steel on you, n*gga, anyways
triple ain’t sh*t, life rich, homie
but the way i’ve been sh*ttin’ on ’em make these p*ssy n*ggas feel the way
coco that fresh, i get dressed in the cash
i’m dressin’ and all my pockets full of sacks
got tricks on my fleece, i’m like inspector gadget
your n*gga ride d*ck for money, he a f*ggot
have fans that’ll ask for lease inside the rover
this b*tch was too little for me, i couldn’t wear it
i gotta watch what i say around these n*ggas
they say what they heard, remind me of a parrot
your money ’bout short as a midget
how you gon’ beef with me, n*gga? won’t pay you attention
won’t give you no free promotion, triple just gon’ look over you, i won’t even give you a mention
i’m ridin’ with a thick b*tch, but she bad as a motherf*cker, i might give her a whipping
pockets fat as a big b*tch, i ain’t talkin’ ’bout pressure, but triple be chasin’ the chicken
[chorus]
million dollar mouthpiece, y’all n*ggas talk sh*t
triple gon’ pop that—
godd*mn, sh*t over with already?
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