Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Practice, artist - Rio Da Yung OG.
Date of issue: 12.11.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Practice |
Twenty racks cash, a pint of, alright |
Yeah, Ghetto Boyz shit, nigga |
Twenty racks cash, a pint of glass, and a K on me |
Told kid dog should just claim KrispyLife, I put a K on him |
Put a lot of ice in the cup, pour an eight on it |
Drinkin' fours of Wock' every day, puttin' weight on me |
Oh, we was talkin' 'bout a gun? |
Mine stay on me |
Last year I told my Cali bitch I’m comin' west, she still waitin' on me |
Treat they block like a blank canvas, I’ma paint on it |
I thought you poured a deuce in here, why I don’t taste nothin'? |
Million dollars cash, any less is unacceptable |
Tryna fuck, but she text back too fast, kinda skeptical |
If I had a life jacket and you was drownin', I wouldn’t rescue you |
Walk up on a random bitch, I wanna have sex with you |
Look, bitch, if you ain’t tryna book a show, I ain’t textin' you |
Bitch, I know you fucked Ray, I ain’t question you |
I wanna buy a pint of eight, a six, and an extra two |
Oh, your brother from the Regencys, I can’t mess with you |
I’m in a trash bag, man, y’all niggas in a store bag |
Seen Mike with a half a 'bow and bought the whole bag |
I feel like Joe, I got a bunch of hoes like 4sho Mag |
Can’t believe Michael kids sold the drank, man, I’m so mad |
I just left out niggas' hood, I’m finna go back |
Nigga, you wasn’t really in the hood, that’s a throwback |
I’m always the first to start shootin', I don’t blow back |
I know I got two pints of Wock', where some more at? |
I just cut into Jasmine, where Simone at? |
I be walkin' up on random hoes like, «Where your phone at?» |
Seen Lil D drop thirty shots where the store at |
Me and Lil E drunk forty pops, why we so fat |
You only got thirty-five hundred for a verse, I don’t want that |
Oh, you ain’t get your weed from A1? |
I can’t smoke that |
Last nigga parked his shoes here got a toetag |
Fuck around and bought an eight of cut, drunk two deuces, took a four back |
In a nigga hood, down south sellin' dope sacks |
Askin' all the bad ratchet hoes where the store at |
Alright, I already fucked Cakes, where Moe at? |
Fuck around and wake a bitch up like, «Where your clothes at?» |
Your nigga wear court jeans, I don’t even wear Amiri |
Niggas wearin' lab diamonds, lookin' so silly |
I don’t carry four-fives no more, only ten millis |
Had twenty hoes, left 'em all, only ten miss me |
Oh, the nigga actin' freaky? |
FN kiss him |
Tongue kiss, got a drum kit, that’s a big fifty |
Today, I’m blessin', buy a drumstick and get six biscuits |
Young bitch asked a dumb question, I dismissed her |
Bum bitch with some small Uggs and some big Miss Mes |
The life I live, should’ve been with Kidd, 'cause my fit crispy |
Just sold dog a cut line of red for like six-fifty |
Hundred Percocets, takin' forty, I’ma flip sixty |
Ghetto Boyz shit, nigga, you know what the fuck goin' on |
I ain’t even mean to do this song for real |
This was a mistake |
Yeah |