Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Rey Mysterio, artist - Rio Da Yung OG.
Date of issue: 19.11.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Rey Mysterio |
I just pulled up with dogshit, look like hogshit |
I just shoot my shot from the three, it was all wrist |
I just hit her on my tippy-toes, she a tall bitch |
I probably got your bitch number on my call list |
Make your bitch wait for two hours, on my stall shit |
Keep a shotgun behind the counter, on my Paw shit |
Cross a nigga up like I’m Chris, on my Paul shit |
Hah, why you do that, Jay? |
Bitch let me fuck because I’m, yeah, 'cause I’m the Coochie Man |
Hah |
Walked in with my coochie friends, it’s a coochie group |
Bitch, I don’t wanna get no head, what that coochie do? |
Ooh-ah |
I’ll get to growlin' in this bitch like a lion do |
.223s make your car stop like a siren do |
Bitch, your eye keep twitchin', who you lyin' to? |
You ain’t know I had a record label? |
Who you signin' to? |
When I’m in the kitchen, I be cookin', think I’m fryin' food |
I don’t take pictures, when I shoot, I need a stabilizer |
How you hit the road with no money? |
You can’t pay a driver |
I’ll tie a pussy nigga up with a cable wire |
I just got into it with my lil' bitch 'cause I came inside her |
I’ma pull up in a long white van like a cable driver |
We really bite, we don’t bark, you an ankle-biter |
Tryna redecorate my new crib, I went table shoppin' |
Ain’t been on Big Beaver in a minute, I’m on Maple shoppin' |
Yeah, you know I had to hit Revive |
Drop thirty shots and spin around, see if he still alive |
I got tremendous aim with the Glock, I can hit a fly |
Hit a lame nigga in the top with the chop, he got his skillet fried |
I’ll get to poppin' everywhere like when chicken fryin' |
The plug just threw me one bird, it’s a chicken flyin' |
Baby, stop tryna touch my dick, four-nickel by it |
Grab the best pot out granny kitchen, drop a zip inside it |
Fuckin' this bitch real good, you see my hip providin' |
Seventeen in each pocket, you see a brick divided |
I ain’t prepare to hit the nigga in his head, I had to improvise |
This is my 2020 'Lac, this is not Enterprise’s |
I might drop an AMG truck and let my bitch drive it |
Whip my dick out in the dark, let my bitch find it |
My bitch cheated, I wasn’t trippin', uh-uh, uh-uh |
My bitch cheatin', I wasn’t, uh |
My bitch cheated, I wasn’t trippin', but she poured my drank out, |
I was finna fight her |
I done fucked every bitch in Michigan 'cause I trick sometimes |
I don’t wanna fuck when I’m off lean 'cause I get tired |
Light a nigga up, one strike, that’s a big lighter |
I really like to break down, but I sold a brick one time |
Cars just came in the mail from the 619 |
Shot two hoes fightin' at the club, the big one died |
Asked me why I drink a lot of cough syrup, 'cause I be sick sometimes |
I ain’t never sold no (Ah) |
I ain’t never sold no (Roof), but I sold a pill one time |
I don’t know Rey Mysterio, but I’ma 619 |
I need to buy a Rolex 'cause I forget my time |
I can’t forget my iron, iron (Hah) |
Alright, yeah |
I don’t got on Rico clothes, I can’t forget my iron |
I can’t leave my people at the bottom, can’t forget my tribe |
Bitch asked me what’s my zodiac? |
Don’t forget my sign |
Funny as hell talkin' to my bitch, I forget my lie |
Yeah, let me tell you |
Alright, multitask when I went in, when I went |
Alright, multitask when I, ah |
I could roll |
I could roll a blunt |
Alright, watch this |
I could roll a blunt, text my bitch, drive, and shoot the stick |
Take the pill, R disturb her peace, no Ludacris |
I just took a bougie bitch to Bucharest |
You probably hit me up last night, but I ain’t see the text |
My jeweler said I can’t get another chain 'cause he need some rest |
Ah, let me up, I need to stretch |
Fuck her with my gun in my hand, havin' evil sex |
Fuck, her, yeah |
Her bad-ass son touched my Palm Angels shirt, now I got Cheeto prints |
Yeah |
Burn the scene up after I bust, they ain’t see no prints, man |
And I’ll throw a— ball on my Tebow shit, alright |
Fuck around and have to— the pizza man, on my T.O. |
shit, ooh |
And I’ll drop a nigga every Tuesday, on my P.O. |
shit, nigga, yeah |
And I got my chain from Golden Sun, let me see your shit |
Yeah, and thirty racks for the watch, let me see your wrist, yeah |
Nigga, and I only drink Wock', you can keep your Tris, yeah |
And just sent me ten lines of that, you can keep your six, alright |
Y’all niggas don’t be on shit, yeah |