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lirik lagu 50 boyz – shittyboyz

[intro]
(rj always trippin’, man, rj always trippin’, man)

[verse 1: babytron, trdee & stanwill]
fiends on the block doin’— out some reynolds wrap
we with all the f*ckery, we hop out tryna temple tap
how you keep gettin’ robbed? go and get a strap
n*ggas told me i was fallin’ off, man, i needed that
really up, hope you know that i don’t need to rap
if you talkin’ money, b*tch, i’m everywhere you see it at
code talkin’ with my plug, sh*t, he say he need a month
oh, okay, four weeks or twenty*eight, you keepin’ up?
i be really gettin’ money, you think that i give a f*ck?
tryna get your bag right, you gotta put your feelings up
rockin’ christian, b*tch, i’m everything but holy, though
say they wanna see me score, but actin’ like the goalie, though
on rodeo in somе red bottoms, they on rodeo
no motion, that’s disgusting, i’d rathеr slowly grow
jeans say “from tokyo,” i’m lookin’ j*panese off ‘za
frames tinted up, they don’t even know i’m in here high
most wanted, ridin’ with the baddest b*tch
i be fresh as h*ll and then forget to take a pic
steppin’ out the crib, can’t forget to take the bl!ck
lil’ brodie like a gymnast, all he know is make a flip
it’s the o, i take a sip, huh, boy, this cup too dirty
(time traveling, caught him at three, but we bust two 30s)
whole gang blowin’ money fast like the 50 boyz
this ain’t alcohol, sippin’ drank, we the tipsy boys
see 12, nfl combine, get shifty, boy
pullin’ up like melo at the garden, droppin’ sixty, boy
record her, feel like a director, call me spike dee
i’m gettin’ to it, i don’t care ’bout who don’t like me
tryna fight me, be done blew the fingers off his fist
jugg phone slappin’, be done turned the ringer off this b*tch
unky, he addicted, sippin’ by the liter out this b*tch
[verse 2: babytron, trdee & stanwill]
b*tch, i’m number one, smitty werbenjagermanjensen
here my granny goin’ lecturin’, hate a d*mn lesson
i knew he wouldn’t even shoot it, seen his hand sweatin’
if he ain’t get shot, we beat him with a jammed weapon
i hate a broke b*tch, they make me itch, stay away
stackin’ up, i’m always ready for a rainy day
a n*gga play with one of mines, he gon’ die today
always speakin’ on some other n*ggas, n*ggas really g*y
sent him to the light ’cause my glock got the flash on it
hundred shots, think the bartender left my tab open
feel like forrest, i’ma run it up until my calves swollen
keep a hitstick, he in that field, but ain’t no pads on him

[outro]
(rj always trippin’, man, rj always trippin’, man)

- shittyboyz

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