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lirik lagu math class – tone’oh

[intro: tone’oh]
(ooh, sav k!lled it)
uh*huh
tone

say my opps white tee, put some bounty on it
gucci hat, that’s money on my head, i got a bounty on it
i was [?] on the low, put the county on it
pull up to my opps’ street and park the new audi on it
what the f*ck? [?]
sellin’ dog food, but you can’t be around me on it
i don’t want that b*tch, she was just convenient
i was at the buckout, but you ask me and i never seen it
i never mean it when i tell a freak that i love her
new chris vick, had the lethal weapon, danny glover
had to cop it, you won’t understand the next topic
too much bread on cash app, uh, that they had to stop it
i was bustin’ juggs in the back of math class
asked my teachеr for some help and gazed up on that fat ass
coppеd a half a brick, but really, this the last time
skeeted on my parking ticket, hit me with a fat fine
last time i saw an opp, he seen me, turned to usain
bolt and when he saw ’em on his ass like a [?]
copped a new chain for my b*tch out in ukraine
beat the eggs up, turned the coochie into soufflé
touché, she was with me last night, it’s a new day
glock to his dome, off his top like a toupée
huh, ayy, let me turn around
made so many sales, the block was hot enough to burn the ground
i heard a sound from your gun, boy, you a rookie
silencer on mine, took ’em out like some burnt cookies
[?] box him in, had that boy shooken
got out the cuffs, sent the plug, and got back to juggin’
yeah, i know i shouldn’t, but i love to sell to fiends
balmain on my ass, fifty in these blue jeans
do things when i wanna, i’m my own boss
b*tch was takin’ pictures in the spot, got her phone tossed
[verse 2: rmc mike]
b*tch suckin’ d*ck so good, can’t take the phone call
woke up and put on burberry, i took vlone off
810 baby from the trenches, i’m my own boss
f*cked her, then spinned her for a week, i know the ho lost
hey, what up, my n*gga tone’oh?
you gon’ die today after tomorrow, f*ck romeo
paid sixteen hundred for some sandals, they was open*toed
unc’ was the f*ckin’ brick man before he got on parole
y’all might think i’m lyin’, but this some true sh*t
caught a body, ooh, sh*t, now i’m eatin’ some ruth chris
you the type to talk about a n*gga, but never do sh*t
lay a hand on da yung og, gon’ get your crew hit

[verse 3: rio da yung og]
drop sixty on a n*gga, i had two clips
my mama always told me never trust a b*tch with two lips
bum n*gga, i’m talkin’ ’bout you if the shoe fit
four guns on— alright
why the f*ck i got four guns on me now, but i got two hips?
n*gga rolled a blunt of bullsh*t, that’s a deuce stick
this ain’t no deuce*deuce, this a glock 22, b*tch
told the cali plug i can’t leave the state, so he flew it
thirty*two hundred dollar outfit on
palm angels off the dior, i don’t wear vlone
b*tch, wipe that makeup off your face so i can skeet on it
d*mn, i thought i was finna nut, i done peed on her
i just got some clean dope, put my feet on it
you got a flyer? it’s ten bands or better to put me on it
caught myself buyin’ an eight of tris, had a cheap moment
the plug ain’t had no more wock’, i broke down, had a weak moment
i don’t give a f*ck if you die, i don’t cry a lot
i get first dibs on the drank ’cause i buy a lot
stop talkin’ ’bout it, you wanna get high, then go buy a pop
ridin’ through the hood in a lam’ truck tryna find the opps
ghetto boyz sh*t

- toneoh

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