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Rap War
Rio da Yung OG
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Money is not everything, it's the only thing
It's a Wayne beat
I'm Aisha, another lovin' one
It's Jay Z, blah, blah
ย
Five racks on a fit, bitch, I act stupid
V's and a green Bravis look like a crab movin'
Got the bitch suckin' dick while her ass movin'
Beat the CO bitch down and send a rack to her
On some bullshit, I done got into some rat war
Bring your dog shit out, let's have a rap war
I might buy a 'Rari truck before we start the tour
I went to one nigga's, the letter start with four
Supreme Forces 300, swear they cost four
That's forty-three hundred on some shit that I barely wore
He just shot you in the leg, bro, you barely sore
I'm paranoid, answer the phone in my scary voice
Back in 2013, we was the Larry boys
Four karats in each ear, the Monterey boys
If you ain't tryna drop shit, then what you say that for?
Bitch, I'm rich now and I will not cap, that's what I say that for
You can't compare your man to me, he very poor
Mix the Trish with the Quake and that's very demure
I seen a nigga get his shit pushed back, I'm paranoid
We run from the state police, we call 'em Cherry Boys
Hit a left then a right, there we never was
Baby ghost a demon, he will not spare you in the club
I pulled off on my big bro and left him with a dub
I'm on my own shit, I swear I'm tired of helpin' niggas up
Seventy racks of lever-X, I just got out of prison
I keep it real, the bustdown ain't mine, Jerry left it with me
I went with my nephew Jair, Sharon left him with me
I got a hundred in the clip, a spare nigga fifty
KB got that trigger thing, could share it to his em'
It's fucked up, he tried to get a biggie bag, I left at Wendy's
Bottle cap Balenciaga belt, it was eleven-fifty
Like, how we talkin' 'bout some shit that I never mention?
Them niggas just can dress better than me, was never better than me
I might pop out in my city with a letter with me
That's a whole M, hoppin' out the 'Rari truck with the Chrome Timbs
Real business man, nigga, you will never hear me, say my phone dead
Matter of fact, where the fuck my other phone at?
Nigga, I got pussy when I was in jail, wasn't no phone sex
And I paid the bitch to bring me a pint of Old Red
You ain't got more money than me fuckin' bonehead
We just dropped to eight, but you can never tell 'cause it's a cold red
Yeah, you really killed the tour, your shows was dick
Kidnapped, make him shoot himself in his own forehead
I done drunk so much drank, feel like an old man
Zero miles on the Maybach, it got flowed in
It got towed in
Probably in a Wraque with a switch on me in the low end
With some blowheads, man
Come on, come on
ย