Water Boi

That, that, that, that, that be Maaly Raw

Too many niggas be jockin'
Too many niggas be ridin' dick, nigga
Too many niggas be jockin'
Too many niggas be ridin' dick, nigga
Too many niggas be actin' like bitches
These niggas be actin' like bitches
Too many niggas be actin' like bitches
These niggas be actin' like bitches

I don't fuck with these niggas, I got it on my own
'Til I run it up, I ain't goin' home
Birds in the spot like the Georgia Dome
Nigga, we smokin' exotic, that strong
Stayin' down all day 'til my money long
Hood nigga, thirty racks, that's a phone
Hah, don't call me, my nigga, I don't know you
Don't fuck with you niggas, I'm lonely
Yeah, strapped, yeah, flex
Yeah, flex, yeah, facts
Yeah, facts, yeah, tap
Yeah, racks, yeah, racks
Fuck up the money, I blew up the sack
Don't give a fuck, I could get it right back
Yeah, trap, yeah, packs
Yeah, black, yeah
Dog, I hit from the back
Running through that shit like I was a back
Water boy, I'm the one go get the sack
Fuck 'bout you niggas, I run up a check
This is a 'Cat, ain't no Scat'
Pablo came back like Return of the Mack, hah
Call him Ricky 'cause I caught him
running and I shot him in the back, nigga

We the ones that's drinkin' cream soda
Double down with the Glock, ain't got no holster
Brand new big truck, get your ass ran over
Geeked up on drugs, I ain't never sober
I came out the hole in the trap by the Krogers
You know I'm a dog, I'm bending her over
Anemic, my wrist is a frozen
These niggas be copyin', that drip really stolen
I put some lean in my cup (Lean), some ice on my wrist
The interior the whip the same color blue
Louboutin with the Dior, she mixed
I pour up a four in a six
I ain't really trippin', I knew they would switch
I was just broke, now I Louis-ed my kicks
Hatin' ass nigga, you act like a bitch
All-black Glock on me matching my outfit
We don't fuck with these niggas, they act like some bitches
I don't need no friends, I just handle my business
Hi-Tech, red lean fucked up my kidneys
Real ahk, nigga, I ain't eatin' no chittlins
R.I.P. to all my opps and my enemies
Ain't gay, so I don't give a fuck you ain't friendly
Ran up a mil', I ain't have a meal to eat, literally
F&N, no kickback with the lemon squeeze

I don't fuck with these niggas, I got it on my own
'Til I run it up, I ain't goin' home
Birds in the spot like the Georgia Dome
Nigga, we smokin' exotic, that strong
Stayin' down all day 'til my money long
Hood nigga, thirty racks, that's a phone
Hah, don't call me, my nigga, I don't know you
Don't fuck with you niggas, I'm lonely
Yeah, strapped, yeah, flex
Yeah, flex, yeah, facts
Yeah, facts, yeah, tap
Yeah, racks yeah, racks
Fuck up the money, I blew up the sack
Don't give a fuck, I could get it right back
Yeah, trap, yeah, packs
Yeah, black, yeah
Dog, I hit from the back
Running through that shit like I was a back
Water boy, I'm the one go get the sack
Fuck 'bout you niggas, I run up a check
This is a 'Cat, ain't no Scat'
Pablo came back like Return of the Mack
Call him Ricky 'cause I caught him
running and I shot him in the back, nigga

Too many niggas be jockin'
Too many niggas be ridin' dick, nigga
Too many niggas be jockin'
Too many niggas be ridin' dick, nigga
Too many niggas be actin' like bitches
These niggas be actin' like bitches
Too many niggas be actin' like bitches
These niggas be actin' like bitches



Credits
Writer(s): Jamaal Talib Henry, Hoodrich Pablo Juan
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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