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rolex b - we pt. iv - west coast lyrics

[intro: rolex b]
uhhh
bree, bree, bree, bree

[verse 1: rolex b]
i’m the bee’s knees, your girl blew me like a swift breeze
leave you full of bullet holes like swiss cheese
do a line in the bathtub like whitney houston
everything’s bigger in texas, get used to it
i’m from dallas, homie, mckinney specifically
recently i underwent a f-cking epiphany
most of this rap sh-t, it’s wack sh-t
all these wack rappers driving me batsh-t
especially danny brown, it’s tragic
i sh-t on danny then make off with the guap
danny b scared so he goes and runs to the cops, uh
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“hi, yeah, rolex b just f-cking murdered me”
yeah i’m about to do it again
you don’t know the type of damage i can do with a pen
why you hate danny? cause wack rapper get beefed with
i’m d-cking danny hard with my 20-inch meatstick
you jack off so much that your wrist numb
you look and sound like the black forrest gump
you sure is dumb, and it looks like your tongue is in jail
you’re getting nailed by a pale rapper that never failed
rolex

[hook: rolex b]
uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
f-ck danny brown
uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
f-ck danny brown, woo!

[verse 2: broccoli man]
cruising round the hood feeling good on my bike
dropping my gears like i drop in a mic
some little sh-t starting trouble with me
like “bridgestone? what a f-cking weeb”
well tick tock, b-tch, it’s glock ‘o’clock
start beef with the bae and you might get shot
two hands on the gun, none on the bars
she still ride smooth, smoother than my bars
wait, hold up, got me an addendum
my verses have a bar limit before i can end them
first things first cause i ain’t no f-cking liar
i love my bike, but my wires ain’t fire
and i ain’t gonna say my brakes are shot
but f-ck, man, my stopping distance ain’t hot
my old ride was red like my man kyle
but my new girl she purple like the gem of the nile
um, f-ck, sh-t, -ss
tic tac squad, i’ma take a p-ss

[hook: rolex b]
uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
f-ck danny brown
uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
f-ck danny brown, woo!

[verse 3: life’s complex]
tic tock, young brother, it’s the tic tac
rappers got me p-ssed off cause they know they been trash
b-mping like i’m kid rock, got them bars like kit kat
and i’m ‘bout to lift off, so make sure you in strapped
down like you jay sean, bring the heat like napalm
clean the streets of trash i, always hear the same song
got broads in atlanta, them b-tches get rained on
man those lyrics k!ll me, active like it’s radon
so homie get my hazmat suit, and i’ll get back at you
just give me 20 minutes and i’m gonna act a fool
get neck in bonetown, and i got snapbacks too
t-t-s, aka the fashion crew
cause i’m just living life, doing what i can
preach positivity like lil b taught me again
i could start a beef with mattyb but that’d be kind of petty
cause the sauce already got him choking on spaghetti
motherf-cker
motherf-cking bars
woo

- rolex b lyrics

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