Lyrics Fuck Rap - Babyface Ray, Peezy

Fuck Rap

I just chewed three percs they say that’s a blue
They say I just talk too much but I just speak the truth
My homies trappers they don’t rap so they be speaking through me
Her nigga like to play my music she be sneakin to me
Nigga still didn’t pay their tab you can keep the money
Niggas flashing petty stacks man that’s sneaker money
I got worried niggas plottin so the reaper coming
Seen shells everywhere like the easter bunny
Fame changed the game
Niggas tryin to proove a point instagram to blame
Niggas get a couple dollars and forget that they’re lame
Bitches get a couple followers and be switching their ways
Niggas shine a couple times and forget that it rains
I don’t really give a fuck courtesy of the drank
Hustle hard then deposit like I live in the bank
Neighbors smell the cali fragrance like I live in the bank
Yea fuck how you feel my bitch my mommas still struggling
Fuck how we was ain’t no love if you run with them
You can get another 100 if you come with ten
I saw you when you niggas trap but I ain’t comin in
They say you quit rap ray?
Yea I’m done with this
Cause I ain’t cool with all that front shit
I’m in my off white joggers but I’m runnin shit
That man disrespect my man ima fuck his bitch
Nigga disprect my brother ima pop his top
Twan just walked in new (emited) pressin 30 on the bag ten 10g's on the awp
Blues got 30 on his neck 50g's on his watch
Home alone paranoia 60gs on the spot
Got a line on the girl he not with me in the block
Get love in the hood we be feeding the block
I ain’t even see my kids all I’m seeing is quac
I ain’t even see my momma I’ve been gone for a month
Riding something low key with 24's in the trunk
Long sleeved escalade 6 hoes in the truck
Smoking woods out the pound roll up what you want
Countin blue 100's fell asleep drinking red
Niggas postin guns on gram they don’t believe in feds
You niggas ain’t goons better quit the playing
When I get bored ima put some cheese on your head
Coming home from milwauke stopped in the shot
Takin ten out the bag shoppin till I drop
No it ain’t the holiday but sparkles in the sky
Strippers know we buy 1's and let them bitches fly
Shot a move to the country paid your bitch to drive
Sitting round fresh as shit and we’re just getting high
Man that shit you call ballin he just getting by
Fuck your bitch and have her screaming like she finna die
Almost said fuck this rap shit
Cause I got sick and tired all this cap shit navy blue dickies on my trap shit
Up as hell still act like I ain’t got shit
How the fuck is he a shooter ain’t shot shit
Paid my dog to clean your whole house with that mop stick
Boy the shit you saving up that’s the shit I cop with
Boy you nigga’s ain’t even allowed where I shop at