Rick James

We gonna hangout with
Rick James tonight
You know what I'm saying?
And here he comes up out the room
Cocaine's a hell of a drug
Everyday I wake up in the morning
Racks on my medulla
Only nigga rocking hella pink
Like beaches In Bermuda
Bitch I'm cooler than a
Yeti cooler
Out up in Vancouver
Fuck a shooter
Nine up on my hip
Ain't talkin bout a ruler
(What you talking bout?)
Bitch I'm talkin bout that glizzy
Imma shoot that hoe until it jam
Before you niggas hit me
What the lick read?
Doing shit no one believe
Not even Ripley
Got some hoes
That get down on they knees
When situations sticky
I'm the realest
To a fuckin T
You fucking with
A fucking G
These niggas want bad bitches
But won't take em out to Applebee's
I'm flyer than a pack of geese
Don't talk
I let my actions speak
My squad we run this shit
Like faculties
And track star athletes
My pockets super fat
Obese
Your bitch ain't bad
She for the streets
Play beats
And It turn to a feast
At least
I practice what I preach
Blowing gas
Til the day I'm deceased
Sing to your bitch
Like we in Grease
You talk to hoes about the tea
I fuck for an hour then I leave

Fuck yo couch hoe
Fuck yo couch bitch
Fuck yo couch hoe
Fuck yo couch bitch
Fuck yo couch hoe
Fuck yo couch bitch
Fuck yo couch hoe
Fuck yo couch bitch
Bitch
I
Don't give a fuck about y'all captions
All that cappin was funny
Til we pulled up
Now no one laughing
Bitch what's happenin?
Shopped at Nordstrom
Way before I brought them racks in
Ain't no lacking
When everyone on your team
About that action (Uh)
J Ham lil bitch



Credits
Writer(s): Pharrell Williams, Cornell Haynes, Clifford Harris
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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