Sippin

(album: Rich Off Pints 2 - 2021)

[Icewear Vezzo:]
Nigga talking this lean shit, nigga, you know what's (You can't fuck with us, nigga)
Really live this shit, nigga, Drank God
Yeah
Real Ghetto Boyz shit
Drank God (Got this shit on me right now, nigga)
All real, real trap niggas (Rich off pints for real)
We ain't none of these rap niggas (No cap, yeah)
(Iced Up Records)

Got dog shit in my pocket, all fives and twenties, look like the crack days (For real)
Got Quagen, Trishy, and Wock' up in my bag, I miss them Act' days (Yeah)
Shining, nigga, rose gold 'Dweller on me brown like a frappé (Woo)
I hit my shells with chops and a whole lotta shooters, I still got trap ways
Yeah, don't hang with nothing but robbers, jackboys, shiners, look at my homies (Ghetto Boyz)
Got a quarter bricky up in my Louis bag of that Calvin Broadus, nigga (That doggy)
Dog food, counting up all blues, step back, I prone it
Walk in Hutch and drop 200K just to match my Rollie, yeah
Paid nigga, went and got my chain bigger, I fuck with gang members
I don't fuck with rappers, I'll crash out, take his shit, these niggas straight bitches, yeah (He pussy)
Long sleeve, that's that Caddy truck, sit that bitch on eight inches (For real)
Forgios, they look like Oreos, black and white, I'm Raven
Slide to Truth, treat that bitch like the dub, I'm on stage like Flay did it
Don't take no L's, got big F&N, alphabets, that K with us (Yeah)
F&H (What else?), big boy, rep the lakes, big stepper like Kevin Gates (Bitch)
An '80s nigga (What?), I'm a real crack baby, bitch, I came from Section 8

[Babyface Ray:]
I'm drinking and driving, I know it ain't safe, Glock, no safety
Big boy money, don't be calling me baby
I'm dogging her out, but she stalking and calling me crazy (Fuck that btch)
Playing with me, I pay 'em a fee and they walking on all of these lames (Get that nigga)
VVs all on my chain
TVs all in the Sprinter, I'm playing the game (Yeah)
I'ma pouring up-ass nigga, counting my cash
I'ma be pitching the bag 'til the last inning (Yeah)
Backend boys, damn near doubled up twice, brought a bag with me (You know that)
I don't gossip, nigga, ask Wendy (You know that)
How you gang, you ain't ride with me? (How?)
How we opps, you ain't sent a shot, boy? (Lame)
25K, he'll hit the top, boy
Tied with the bird man, but I'm not a Hot Boy (Bitch)
On the couch, me and Meech, that's the real, my boy
Heard you getting money, how you feel, my boy? (How you feel, my nigga?)
Ayy, Saint Michaels, naw, this ain't Saint Laurent, got ten hoes taking shots
Niggas sending threats, switch move just like a 'Vette, turn the crib to a vacant lot
I hate broke bitches, niggas who front a lot
I hate Tris and I hate the cops (Yeah)
I love codeine, freak bitch on her knees
Love money, so I make a lot (Ayy)
Money and lean, nah, I ain't changing my ways, still eating at Zorbaz, nigga (Bitch)
Boy, you're a kid, don't stand next to my gang, your wrist ain't a quarter, nigga (Thirty)
Really a waiter, you know they hitting my line, I'm filling they order, nigga (Bitch)
Money in boxes, starting to run out of space, I feel like a hoarder, nigga
Fucking these hoes, soon as I get to that age, we fucking your daughter, nigga (Nigga)
Ran through the load, really, I need me a plug, take me to the border, nigga
Yeah

Fuck these niggas