Informazioni sulla canzone In questa pagina puoi trovare il testo della canzone Flint Boyz, artista - Rio Da Yung OG.
Data di rilascio: 10.05.2024
Limiti di età: 18+
Linguaggio delle canzoni: inglese
Flint Boyz |
Ghetto Boyz shit, nigga |
Still grindin' shit, nigga |
(Boomin need extras) |
In the hood right now with a hundred on me |
Four chains on now, why you lookin' at me? |
In the drop-head Benz with the— |
Ahh, alright |
I'm in the drop-head Benz with the Honey Badger |
I'll jump out this pretty bitch and get to bustin' at you |
There go the car, I'm finna throw a whole hundred at it |
My bitch bad, plus I get cash, I got a hundred habits |
I tried to chase him, he was runnin' like a fuckin' rabbit |
I made a statement with the switch, fully automatic |
I dropped eighty in his whip, caught him out in traffic |
Then he almost hit a pole, I tried to make him crash it |
Bitch, suck the dick or somethin', that'll make me happy |
Got an old pint of Hi-Tech, it came in the plastic |
Walk in my kitchen, I got six eights in the cabinet |
I need some resin 'cause I got a brick play Saturday |
I just walked a nigga down in a Bape jacket |
And I hit all my hoes raw, bro, I hate Magnums |
I got a talent, I can shoot a .308 backwards |
I just bought a rose-gold presi', now I hate platinum |
Zip my hoodie up and gun you down in a Bape jacket |
Bitch body natural as hell, but her face plastic |
Get up and get this shit on my own 'cause I hate askin' |
Once a nigga hear me say somethin', he gon' pay faster |
300K play on floor, that's a pape' package |
Nigga, every day, I'm 'bout green, fuck St. Patrick |
I can't believe this nigga tryna stunt in some fake glasses |
Got the world tryna steal our style, now I hate rappin' |
I just fucked an Instagram model, had to tape that one |
Ri gave me a lil' blue pill like, "Here, take that one" |
I know the way I put that shit on make you hate fashion |
Told bro to grab a six of Wock' out the gray cabinet |
Every time I see my opps, them niggas broke like they hate havin' it |
I'm up some dog shit, I can't go broke, I got eight habits |
Best watch in your showcase, I'll take that one |
Alright, okay, yeah |
The best watch in your showcase, I'll take that one |
From the streets to the rap a hard turn, how you make that one? |
Deuce of Trish, a lil' four of Wock', finna break balance |
Naw, I don't see you gettin' this far, but you got talent |
You got the Off-Whites on I like to rock, bro, I gotta grab 'em |
Always keep a scale around too, boy, I gotta have it |
Too much of this in one pop, nasty, this is no casket |
If my car clean like I'm dead, this is no casket |
Pull up, serve you a quarter or two, nigga, no basket |
I just bought a Louis duffle, probably don't drag it |
Still feel like I out-trap all the trappers, nigga, no braggin' |
Niggas probably dress like they pop and get no action |
Thought he was a stepper, we just toe-tagged him |
Why you talkin' 'bout my chain? Let your ho ask me |
Seven hundred horses in the 'Cat, finna blow past 'em |
I just made a hundred racks sellin' blow packages |
Eight hundred for a line, bitch, this Actavis |
Palm Angel hoodie fifteen hundred, but I'm grabbin' it |
If the bitch ass look fake, then I'm grabbin' it |
Grab a bitch by her ankles when I'm stabbin' it |
Man, come on, bro, that ain't enough |
I mean, I need some more beat, bro |