RODEO

(album: FUCK YO SUMMER - 2022)

(Rell On The Track)
Are you in the mafia?
Am I in the what?
Whatever you wanna call it, organized crime
I'm in the waste management business, everybody immediately assumes you're mobbed up

Top down, chilling in the summertime
All I see is blue hundreds, bitch, I'm colorblind
The bitch say the pussy for me 'cause she know it's mine
Nigga, I done ran through a hundred like a hundred times
Riding down Rodeo in a Wraith
You might as well say I'm out in space
A thousand miles away and I don't feel out of place
I could see the hate through these all-white buffs on my face
I just counted up a hundred, 'bout to count another hundred
I ain't running Dior runners, I'm just fresh as shit
Spray some of that Creed, she wanna lick me like a peppermint
Had to tell her move 'cause, bitch, you can't spill this medicine
All I do is preach on these beats, I'm a reverend
This lil' bitch a freak in the sheets, yeah, she devilish
I gotta have at least fifty racks if I pop out
How the fuck I got these Jordans on and they not out?
These hoes raw, wanna fuck you for a shoutout
If I catch a case, we going to trial, ain't no cop out
Nigga talk spicy, put some sauce on his taco
Throw a nigga bitch back to him, Joe Flacco
I told my ex-bitch, "Take a seat"
I cuddle with the chopper every time I go to sleep
A nigga want smoke, we gon' put him in a leaf
I gotta leave them racks in the club on the floor when I leave
I'm a real live P, come and go as I please
Top down, chilling with a baddie
Her friend with her and they both got a fatty
Yeah, they cute, but I'ma send these hoes to Cincinnati
Don't slam the doors on this long-sleeve Caddy
She wanna fuck me everywhere, this lil' bitch a savage
I guess I'm like a father figure 'cause she call me daddy
Her nigga think he got some racks, but he never had 'em
Old niggas hating on the youngins, I ain't never understand it
The hoes think I'm rude 'cause they say I ain't romantic
You give me vibes, if you get in that room, you gon' panic
I'm smoking on some za, no, this weed ain't organic
I got some fish scale in, not no salmon
I got three cars parked outside of the mansion
You used to be that nigga in the hood, bro, what happened?
Ayy, ain't no Lululemon on me, rich as your big homie
Get some head at the Coney, it was boogers in my Rollie
Then I switched to the AP, fit cost like eight G's
All my niggas taking shit to length, we don't take pleas
You would take a cold bitch to the mall, I make her so pleased
My young niggas taking hits, they the A-Team
Fully on this Glock, seventeen, make it an eighteen
You just started getting pape' in 2018, lil' nigga

(Rell)