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lirik lagu whatchu need – rio da yung og & nuez

[intro]
oh yeah
ghetto boyz sh*t, n*gga
this sh*t on the floor
alright
what you need?
what you need, what you need, n*gga?
what you need, n*gga?
what you need, what you need, n*gga?
ayy

[verse]
i’m the hood pharmacist, tell me what you need
oxycontin, percs, i don’t f*ck with weed
what you need, a lil’ lean?
hit my phone, n*gga
hit my phone, you know i’m f*ckin’ with them beans too
b*tch, i got a doctor plug, i don’t need you
hit him in his head with the k, now it’s see*through
how many percs you ’bout to eat? sh*t, i need two
oh, your mama smoke dope? i’m a fiend too
vision blurry, words slurry, that’s what lean do
i’m really f*cked up in the head, i know i seem cool
b*tch, i’ll k!ll the whole world, now it’s just me and you
got a real plug on the ‘bows, he hebrew
my n*gga ate a plate in my face, i wanna eat too
you know your mans a rat and you still with him, you might be one too
whole pint of wockhardt gone, it’s just me and lou
ten milli’ on my hip, i can k!ll a cop
gucci raincoat on, i ain’t feel a drop
how the f*ck this whole eight gone and it’s just 6 o’clock?
i know you seen me with that ap thang on, but this a different watch
tremendous aim, dog upped his strap, got the pistol shot
n*gga, you ain’t never dropped sh*t, you just pimple pop
okay, that oxycontin 30 kickin’ in, i can sip now
200k in blues on me now, i’m a crip now
used to have to go in on a bag, but i’m rich now
every week, got a thousand blues gettin’ sent out
the prosecutor racist than a b*tch, i’m finna flip out
ridin’ in a scat’, lookin’ for the opps, we just seen one and flipped out
when i’m in my feelings, i be ridin’ past k*trip house
he took a couple pills and ain’t wake up, how that sh*t sound?
i got some white fentanyl, but the mix brown
headshot, the n*gga lost his life before he hit the ground
i don’t calm down on this run, i’ma check ’em out
it’s a lil’ switch on the back part, this a different glock
grocery shoppin’ at walmart with the nickel c*cked
n*gga run up on me, i’ma whip it out, b*tch, i pistol shop
you don’t need no f*ckin’ bag of ice, you got a little knot
i’m at lil e crib, he got more pills than a ‘spital got
i’ma need thirty*eight hundred for a skittle crop
they tried to box me in the dope game, i had to wiggle out
can’t believe this n*gga lit a swisher, someone kick him out
catch me in the hood takin’ pictures with the pistol out
he want three hundred a line for a pint of wock’, i whipped a nickel out
took two hundred dollars off the top, now give me my ounces
i can make twenty racks quick, just give me an hour
dope money wrinkled up like it got left in the washer
i was goin’ through some real sh*t, i met me a counselor
my beecher n*gga tryna buy a brick, he met me on carter
the chain i got on real thick like seventy*one dollars
i remember ridin’ with a b*tch in an ’06 chevy impala
sh*t, and since we talkin’ ’bout cars, my neck a marauder
he was not tryna give the bars, up stick on the doctor
this sh*t came quick, yeah
this sh*t came quick, swear it felt like we got rich in an hour
unc’ hit me with a clean brick, now i’m siftin’ the power
told me don’t worry ’bout the money, he’ll get it tomorrow
said so much sh*t, you gotta listen, you might hear it tomorrow
seen a n*gga drop a scatpack and get k!lled in a charger
of course the pint had a seal on it, it was hit at the bottom
i know that’s some real actavis, look how it sit at the bottom
[outro]
yeah, ghetto boyz sh*t, n*gga
yeah, sometimes
this b*tch smooth as h*ll, alright

- rio da yung og nuez

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