Testo Pooh Sheisty - Rio Da Yung Og
Testo della canzone Pooh Sheisty (Rio Da Yung Og), tratta dall'album The F Tape - EP
Niggas that kept yellin' out, "I got money
" Blowing real bubblegum weed, eight, oh
Blowin' real bubblegum, eight hundred for an ounce of this
I be somewhere runnin' up a check, keep me out the mix
Guarantee they say they know Rio if they be out in Flint
I just got a hundred K in cash for a sponsorship
Still thanking God for my accomplishments
Nigga said I told and he ain't get no acknowledgement
I've been down to a four-day band, I'm tryna quit
I know it's bad when Lucé all he found was some lines of Trish
501 Levi's on, but they Chrome Heart
You wanna see me make a dime?
All right, I'm waitin' on my phone to charge
Havin' real dog shit, I could turn into a long shirt
Knocked a nigga out in front his bitch, pulled his whole card
My people got two hundred fifty stamps, I bought the whole car
Told my security pull the baby Drac' out when the show
Start.308'll turn a nigga Hellcat into a go-kart
You would think I used to paint how I know art
Guarantied I'm hittin' three niggas when the four spark
Ten chains on now, it's on the floor part
Hit him with the K, he blacked out, say it was so dark
They put me on the box, I made a hundred racks on Birk'
I'm a motherfuckin' genius
I was gettin' cases of the Hi-Tech out in Phoenix
And the crazy part, I never been to Arizona
Make sure you hit him in the head case he an organ donor
Hit him with the.45, now his torso open
Went to the bad Mary Mary Jane, I left
My bitch, we divorced in Oakland
If the weed six hundred a zip, of course we smokin'
Thirty pointers in the AP, look gorgeous though
You don't gotta buy the beans, I know my people in Florida want 'em
Nigga, you don't gotta buy a thing
We be shootin' cars up, boom, bada-bing
Police ask me what I slung, I'm like, "Not a thing
" Leave a nigga scarred up when the chopper sing
Just hit him in his head, man, the nigga 'bout to bleed
All right, I'm 'bout to leave
Just 'cause you got a little bread
On you don't mean you got no cheese
How can you suck dick for two hours?
Do you got some knees?
Mike, get the fuck out the way, bruh, I'm 'bout to squeeze
We ridin' round with a dirty Glock, but the chopper clean
Dope got the whole house stankin', boil a pot of Febreze
Count the money, get on stage and rap, now I'm 'bout to leave
You wanna rap with me?
Give me six racks
Think you finna scrap with me?
I got a big strap
And Mike got one on him too, nigga, get back
Oh, I forgot, Young Dog and them got six straps
I got a switch on my Glock, I call it Pooh Shiesty
Gucci'd down with six chains, bitch, I'm too icy
I came down the block, he threw the deuces and I flew by him
Nigga, I just cut my dope with some shoe shine
If I catch another case I'm gettin' cooked, I'm a two-timer
Credits
Writer(s): Demario Horne Mccullough
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