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robb bank$ - get it how you live (december) lyrics

[robb bank$]
sure

[cadie]
(happy, happier)

[robb bank$]
i’m back up in this thing with your b-tch all on my d-ck
from tuesday through sunday i’m running through your crib
cut the veins off that tree right and smoke it to a clip
skinny n-gga sh-t, i keep that gold up in your b-tch
p-ssy n-ggas catch a bad one, your mixtape only good to ash on
and you still trynna figure out my 4th bar?
f-ck n-gga, it’s a magnum
a deal, i still don’t got that
my ex is still on call back
and sh-t just gon’ get worse, so i whip that he-rs- and my b-tch wear all black
it’s a difference
and n-ggas still don’t know that behind the scenes, on the mouth that they be kissing
they ain’t finna tell you what they ’bout to get into
b-tch ’bout to leave for college come winter, so
tell me where i fit in
vip parties, ones you can’t get in
the way her new man’s staring at my new b-tches
counting all this new money, singing ’bout these old women (sure)
i mean everything except the last part
took the pain away and sh-t i probably wouldn’t ask for it
i’m long gone when n-ggas need someone to turn to
all my freetime goes to a lily thai (?), it acts just like a squirtle
might as well cop the pack from the way that i’m coppin’ loosies
and she hold the pop kiss like the end of a disney movie
and i’m casting for a p-rno where the actors don’t charge me
my protagonist’s a misty looking b-tch, screaming “star me!”
i let her catch my pokeb-lls, but if she didn’t notice me
i still got shones wanting to be misty to my togepi
now tell me how much flashbacks your -ss just got
i bet you feel violated like i blew up your spot
you see i know your every thought, you a simple -ss n-gga
and that’s real you lil’ b-tch, i can’t get no cash with you
i cure my cottonmouth with that prometh and codeine
and when i’m with my goon friends just act like you don’t know me
that paisely pullover, hood on, like i stole it
i got 1 beer, and 2 loosies, i promise that i’m golden
is it wrong that my old sh-t sound like today’s new sh-t?
i done rapped about my hair and my clothes, that sh-t stupid
i done rapped and lived about all that you ever dreamt it n-gga
and only 17 years, so who’s better n-gga?
i’m y’all’s evolved form, but you act like you don’t wan’ believe that sh-t
scraight like that, first paycheck, first thing i copped was 2 sets of 6
never been too persuasive, exes leave and needin’ replacements
and if you f-ck n-ggas is listening, i’m begging you don’t say sh-t
‘fore you make a n-gga mask up like you contagious
or like we starring in contagion, n-gga

(happy)

and all these hoes want boyfriends, when the last thing i need is more ties
got no more time to myself, living all these separate lives
i take a side and let the smoke out and the air waves
i’m with a red bone, on an airplane
and all of this was daydreams, but i took my mental health day
and i’m smoking in front of children, loitering in front of your building
with your girl, 8 inches deep
missionary, (praying) hoping i feel sh-t
my old b-tch all on my mind, i’m thinking== back when sh-t was so easy
lately i’m starting to question myself, like she wasn’t in the wrong to just up and leave me
but this song ain’t for her, i ain’t gon’ give her that pleasure
i wonder if her new n-gga giving her any pleasure
it’s whether the world gon’ listen to a n-gga right now or later
’till then, i got a b-tch that’s like my creative player
and she live out in jamaica boy, that’s my lil’ thing
she put that lime in the coconut, prometh in a ting
and i’m all off instincts, no thinking, just acting
prolly why she like me, aspiring to be an actress
boy, i had went through them chapters, now that sh-t is done
i’m buying houses, ask that realtor if i could pay her income
knock the cherry out the blunt, right before i clip it
slice the cherry in your b-tch, i roll a bliz and then i’m dippin’
i been bumping too much of that rubberband business
if i said it, then i meant it
obp until the ending, b-tch
yea if i said it then i meant it n-gga, obp until the ending n-gga
if i said it then i meant it b-tch, sure sure sure.. sure

(ss in this sh-t, i f-ck your b-tch, all my n-ggas get it how we live
run through your crib, i’ll take your grip, mo’f-cka get it how you live)

yea, get it how you live
get it how you live
f-ck n-gga, get it how you live
get it how you live

(skinny young n-gga and i’m finer than my b-tch
i’m in the bathroom of your condo, not wiping after i p-ss, b-tch)

after i p-ss, b-tch
all on my d-ck, b-tch
yea, not wiping after i p-ss, b-tch
i leave your crib, and your b-tch still all on my d-ck, b-tch

- robb bank lyrics

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