a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

rmc mike - top rope lyrics

[intro]
(taz)
(313 mafia)
b+tch

[verse]
lou, let me see your toolbox, i’m finna fix some sh+t
b+tch, i’m a grade a writer with good penmanship
tried to fight a whole d+mn pint but couldn’t finish it
i’m only f+ckin’ girly ’cause she got good benefits
okay, let me jump in that p+ssy from the top rope
girly said her n+gga gettin’ money, i get a lot more
send a location to the opps, call it the drop zone
blinked out and beat my b+tch ass ’cause the pop gone
sick as h+ll, that was some expensive+ass actavis
i was gon’ punch her lights out, but i racked the b+tch
f+ck a glock, i use the fn with the plastic tip
f+ck a b+tch and her bеst friends on my rapper sh+t
sherblato in thе backwood mixed with georgia pie
pour eight lines of wockhardt in a four of sprite
broke+ass n+gga probably can’t even afford a pint
met a b+tch and lied to her face, bet i score tonight
yeah, i’m finna board a flight
let me crack the seal on the act’, let’s have a gorgeous night
i been through the drive+thru, he ain’t have my order
told dog, “feel my sh+t up,” he ignored the ice
he a stupid n+gga
bro wanna stop sellin’ dope but he too consistent
pick you off from two blocks away, i shoot with precision
i could’ve used that brand+new .308, but i used the pistol
ballin’ on these n+ggas with three seconds on the shot clock
drop one, twenty+seven on ’em, got the glock hot
b+tch gone, i heard you burnt some n+ggas with that hot box
bmg’ll turn your srt into a drop+top
reset, mike, turn up, this sh+t on the floor
ran up a hundred, f+ck that, we need a hundred more
straight drop, you gotta wear a mask when you cut the dope
no cap, you gotta be prepared when you touch the roll
okay, now, let me touch your soul
i remember hittin’ seventy+five with a bunch of ‘bows
now i rap about my lifestyle for a bunch of dough
i think it’s time to heat this b+tch up, cut the oven on
smokin’ on london pound cake, got my lungs collapsin’
car came with a defect, you gotta punch it backwards
used to sell dope, now, look, ma, your son a rapper
my nephews went to church off them es and jumped the pastors
n+gga, i’m a sh+t+talker, you a mumble rapper
your bag got intercepted, that’s a fumbled package
pop dog and every n+gga with him, that’s a bundle package
right now, i’m rockin’ three designers, havin’ fun with fashion
watch, when i drop this new sh+t, it’s gon’ rock the meter
f+ckin’ on a foreign, yellow b+tch, she polynesian
b+tch homegrown, yeah, i like my hoes condescending
b+tch wanna put me out so bad but can’t find a reason
i’m a loyal+ass n+gga, but i’m kinda sneaky
on the road with akeisha, tryna find the key+keys
her head game excellent, but she kinda geeky
i love the fact her ass fat and she can ride a weewee
i had to cut the ho off, she was too toxic
i don’t take my money to the bank, so i shoebox it
rap ain’t the only way i’m eatin’, i got a few options
seven thousand tied up in kicks, i got a shoe problem
beat a n+gga ass then stomp him out in some christian loubs
f+ck it, take a risk, hit the road with a brick of food
my b+tch say she want a girlfriend, let me pick and choose
make both of them hoes suck my d+ck while i’m sippin’ juice
perc’ 30 got me activated, finna nod off
i know the fans waitin’ on the tape, i took some time off
got a lot of sh+t on the way, i’ma surprise y’all
woke up today, my first play, i made a five+ball

- rmc mike lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS