rio da yung og – grease lyrics
[intro]
(f+ck the fire, we got grease)
we do got grease now (it’s a wayne beat)
that n+gga wayne’ll get on y’all producers’ ass, n+gga
all kind of different bags
b+tch, shake that ass
b+tch, shake that ass
i got an old pint of glass hi+tech, don’t— alright
[verse]
b+tch, shake that ass
i got an old pint of hi+tech, don’t break that glass
n+gga, i was great at math
but if you look in the room, then i ain’t in class
i was skippin’, in the hood sellin’ dope
i can’t get a b+tch pregnant, put on a glove ‘fore i poke
i got rich s+m+n
i can’t find no white lows, i’ma big b it
i get bored and find myself somewhere on big beavеr
i feel like jelly on the stagе in a big beater
i be f+ckin’ all the bad hoes, and i don’t trick neither
just counted twenty racks up and let my b+tch keep it
yeah, that’s my baby mama
i be giving all my side hoes eighty dollars
went in my right pocket, pulled out enough money to buy eight impalas
ninety racks cash on me, but i ate mcdonald’s
i feel like durk, voice of the streets
b+tch p+ssy get moist when i speak
takin’ chances shoppin’, i’m in ‘troit with the heat
walkin’ out the mall, won’t see a n+gga horsing me
sad news, yeah, i f+cked your b+tch unfortunately
i keep textin’ the lil’ b+tch like, “abort please, please, please”
abort please, please, please, alright
i can’t have no more kids, i got enough problems
i gotta fly back to the city, i got court problems
i remember tryna buy a nick with four dollars
now i’m ridin’ ’round with two bl!cks and four choppers
i just bought some new cut, this a horse dropper
finna pour a four of wocky in a core water
she won’t let me hit her walls, she got a door stopper
i don’t wanna f+ck the b+tch, she a wh0re probably
but i wanna f+ck percules
n+gga buy a lil’ gun, now he hercules
pointy+tip louis on, go to church in these
you tryna make a couple dollars? come work for me
me and jr just poured a bad motherf+cker, it’s the squirt for me
stick my finger in a b+tch p+ssy, it’s the skirt for me
d+mn near passed out f+ckin’, i got syrup in me
yeah, you got a hundred racks, but you poor to me
i got a bad+ass b+tch, she portuguese
thirty racks to the side, them lawyer fees
i ain’t squarin’ up with no n+gga, i sig sauer squeeze
send my rich b+tch a pair of diors like, “order these”
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