Lyrics Practice - Rio Da Yung OG

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