Honest
RJ always trippin', man
RJ always trippin', man
Ayy, ayy, ayy
I don't like niggas and that's the, uh
I don't like niggas and that's the honest to God truth (Hmm)
I'm gon' kill niggas and that's a promise, I wanna shoot (Huh)
Slap the beam on the 45, AR make 'em take a nosedive
Big ol' 40, we don't got no 9's
Chopper chop off a nigga whole side
Pussy, we get to movin' shit like RVin'
I fuck your bitch and change my clothes like I'm Clark Kent
And ayy, I'm that nigga that like to start shit
Walk out that bar, no headlights, get this car lit (Ayy)
I'm a workin' ass nigga with no time for games
You's a perpin' ass nigga, you all kinds of lame
Baby twerkin' with them Perkys in her Prada thang
Up this FN, you not my friend, don't say not a thing
Kiss your bitch on her neck, make her coochie rang
I put cream on her face, now she Gucci Mane
Tooda Man, that's my twin 'cause we shoot the same
Want so much more, 'bout to tell Hush make me a hookah chain
I whoop a bitch with the belt like I'm Pootie Tang
Sada ting at the trap, gotta move the yay
And I hold the chopstick like a ukulele
In the Yukon, u-turn, bust your brain
Why I make you need a towel? 'Cause we party wild
And your daughter love a nigga more than Barbie dolls
And your son love a nigga more than action figures
But he 'bout to lose a father figure when I whack them niggas
And I just bought 12 Percs off Tire Man
And I got more work than Allen Iverson
Got more money than your grandaddy retire with
And I'm in every bitch crib like a Fire Stick
I'm in every bitch crib like some UGG boots
I be in every bitch face like, "I love you"
Lyin' straight to them bitches is what thugs do
Up my 5 on them bitches is what Bloods do
I be in every nigga face like, "Fuck you"
A freaky man, hit your bitch with that ooh-wee-ooh
That skillet, man, hit that man with that rug-a-roo
Lay the smack down on you niggas or I Roody-Poo, bitch
I don't like niggas and that's the honest to God truth (Hmm)
I'm gon' kill niggas and that's a promise, I wanna shoot (Huh)
Slap the beam on the 45, AR make 'em take a nosedive
Big ol' 40, we don't got no 9's
Chopper chop off a nigga whole side
RJ always trippin', man
Ayy, ayy, ayy
I don't like niggas and that's the, uh
I don't like niggas and that's the honest to God truth (Hmm)
I'm gon' kill niggas and that's a promise, I wanna shoot (Huh)
Slap the beam on the 45, AR make 'em take a nosedive
Big ol' 40, we don't got no 9's
Chopper chop off a nigga whole side
Pussy, we get to movin' shit like RVin'
I fuck your bitch and change my clothes like I'm Clark Kent
And ayy, I'm that nigga that like to start shit
Walk out that bar, no headlights, get this car lit (Ayy)
I'm a workin' ass nigga with no time for games
You's a perpin' ass nigga, you all kinds of lame
Baby twerkin' with them Perkys in her Prada thang
Up this FN, you not my friend, don't say not a thing
Kiss your bitch on her neck, make her coochie rang
I put cream on her face, now she Gucci Mane
Tooda Man, that's my twin 'cause we shoot the same
Want so much more, 'bout to tell Hush make me a hookah chain
I whoop a bitch with the belt like I'm Pootie Tang
Sada ting at the trap, gotta move the yay
And I hold the chopstick like a ukulele
In the Yukon, u-turn, bust your brain
Why I make you need a towel? 'Cause we party wild
And your daughter love a nigga more than Barbie dolls
And your son love a nigga more than action figures
But he 'bout to lose a father figure when I whack them niggas
And I just bought 12 Percs off Tire Man
And I got more work than Allen Iverson
Got more money than your grandaddy retire with
And I'm in every bitch crib like a Fire Stick
I'm in every bitch crib like some UGG boots
I be in every bitch face like, "I love you"
Lyin' straight to them bitches is what thugs do
Up my 5 on them bitches is what Bloods do
I be in every nigga face like, "Fuck you"
A freaky man, hit your bitch with that ooh-wee-ooh
That skillet, man, hit that man with that rug-a-roo
Lay the smack down on you niggas or I Roody-Poo, bitch
I don't like niggas and that's the honest to God truth (Hmm)
I'm gon' kill niggas and that's a promise, I wanna shoot (Huh)
Slap the beam on the 45, AR make 'em take a nosedive
Big ol' 40, we don't got no 9's
Chopper chop off a nigga whole side
Credits
Writer(s): Rayshawn Lamont Gordon, Casada Aaron Sorrell
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.