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lirik lagu rtgb – roadrunner glockboyz tez

[intro: roadrunner glockboyz tez]
(d*mn, dame, you tweakin’ on the beat)
glockboyz sh*t

[verse 1: roadrunner glockboyz tez]
if he don’t got a body, then that n*gga not with us
he thought he was thug life until somebody hit him up
took off on ’em in the ‘cat, made them n*ggas eat my dust
you gotta have a cute face too, that body not enough
i don’t like n0body, i can’t help it
he ain’t die from the chopper, but he felt it
i ain’t slippin’, got the glock under the mattress
b*tch, i want you to myself, b*tch, i’m selfish
two glock 21s, i call these motherf*ckers blackjack boys
chopper in the book bag’ll turn you to a pack, backpack boys
in them strikers back to back, they think wе the scatpack boys
i be talkin’ ’bout the opps, y’all, i f*ck with my fat boys
stop sayin’ hе your opp if you don’t shoot at him
somebody stole my gun from somebody else, but i blew at him
get your happy ass out the car if you ain’t tryna slide
soft*ass n*gga probably think we goin’ for a ride
n*ggas talkin’ bullsh*t, i be actin’ deaf, i can’t hear
like the sky on january 1st, you get shot at every year
it’s some money in this brown paper bag, not no beer
i don’t want no face, i just wanna hit her from the rear
i used to block hoes if they ain’t let me f*ck first night
you gotta watch hoes
we tryna cook all the beef we got, duck them tacos
we in the dodge, we ain’t dodgin’ sh*t but a pothole
everybody in the fam goons, free ralo
b*tch p*ssy wet as h*ll, where your hole at?
why the broke n*ggas always askin’ where the hoes at?
every time i see you with no pole, where your pole at?
he look rich ’cause he iced up, but he stole that
[verse 2: rtb mb]
hit an opp with a nail gun like, “reload that”
stuffed a ‘wood with a dead opp, n*gga, this a soul pack
i don’t hang around with dyk*s, n*gga, but i hold straps
they say they don’t like the life i’m livin’, but i chose that
me and tez dropped a deuce in a four, it was necessary
i be in the city and i’m rich, i was never scary
ironic that we broke an opp heart, it was february
brodie got the birds in boston, he be sellin’ larry
cool n*gga, but i’m disrespectful if you hype me up
k!lled they main shooter, then i f*cked his b*tch in some hyperdunks
sold some dog food to a fiend, got him right for lunch
smoke exotics on the daily, it smell like i be lightin’ skunks
i don’t trick on hoes, i just give ’em the pipe and runtz
don’t bring your fist to a gun brawl, n*gga, we ain’t fightin’, punk
mike myers, stab, stab, stab, i be knifin’ c*nts
if you flash a b*tch a thirty ball then you might can f*ck

[outro: rtb mb]
n*gga
rtb glockboyz sh*t, you know what the f*ck goin’ on, n*gga
gang
what up, tez?
come on

- roadrunner glockboyz tez

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