Rib-Eye

Slap that Rottie on the back of a big bike

I know your mum heard this, now she can't sit right

My younger got a mash for a quid five

Guaranteed, ain't plannin' on fist fight

You ever beat corn and them man in a jug boy?

And he's cooked like rib-eye

I got his girl tellin' me that I did it

I'm screamin' out, "How did I? How?"

Slap that Rottie on the back of a big bike

I know your mum heard this, now she can't sit right

My younger got a mash for a quid five

Guaranteed, ain't plannin' on fist fight

You ever beat corn and them man in a jug boy?

And he's cooked like rib-eye

I got his girl tellin' me that I did it

I'm screamin' out, "How did I? How did I?"

Slap that Mac on the back of a jigs

So we do it like gob 'round here

My youngin' on the drill, and he miss no stories

He don't do subs 'round here in the drake

But to cool it, to make it real hot 'round here, but it ain't land

So I tell my younger mean, "Rock with the dots 'round there"

Anywhere that he tear

I'ma tell you that you own that block 'round there

Bro had six in the fours

And I had a M10 on cut, tryna fling him in the air

Tryna ying my man, tell broski, "Bring him over here"

Clip clips and chambers fillin' over here

They say if you don't air, then the **** must fill

Pissed when corn lick his hair

You might catch me one day on a outin'

Just know I ain't runnin'

My finger itchin', I rub it

I try beat two corn on the boy over there

But I was pissed, it never pierced his stomach

I was a lil' old **** with a Rottie in a rucksack, causin' up ruckus

The shit that I did, you couldn't stomach

017, it's stress weren't fair

'Cause I came out of jail, and I started puttin' pressure, dead

Two plats on the backroad, press that brev

We done it in a Skoda, we done it off a Honda

We done it with a short one, we done it with a long one

Yeah, tell out your own stuff, but you ain't on none

Tell my young boy when you see them, just

Slap that Rottie on the back of a big bike

I know your mum heard this, now she can't sit right

My younger got a mash for a quid five

Guaranteed, ain't plannin' on fist fight

You ever beat corn and them man in a jug boy?

And he's cooked like rib-eye

I got his girl tellin' me that I did it

I'm screamin' out, "How did I? How did I?"

We ain't doin' no civilian bootin's

Marksman shootin' if I see him, I'm tootin'

I can't did it in there tootin'

My **** got a brand new Star knife from a Russian man, Putin

No, we ain't gonna rush, man, I'll shoot him

'Cause I dropkick man with the dots, 'cause it lock

When it happens, who you think they're accusin'?

She got a man like you, or a man with guap and guns

Who you think she's choosin'?

Come on, now, let's not be stupid

She on my nuts when I pull up on a new whip

Meat that, jeet that, put it in the Ubers

But when it's got a glance when at was scrunched off the Macs

And it could've been a Susan, it could've been an Uzi

Uh, uh, they're so delusional

But when I rest these T at the sports

It's gonna be a funeral

I got fox at my block 'cause I abuse it all

I ain't got corn for some, I'm tryna use it all

I remember me and 'Gody, we was out of town

I'm pluggin' in, and move cubical

'Member gettin' bagged, and they never got the pack

And we still went through it all

I remember when the opper try grab me

Wet her in the pouch, had to cut up my pinnacle

I was seventeen when I thought that I seen it all

'Cause I had the Mac and the splash in my dad's whip

And it was a year that I started doin' some mad tings

I ran up, and gave man a ad-lib

Slap that Rottie on the back of a big bike

I know your mum heard this, now she can't sit right

My younger got a mash for a quid five

Guaranteed, ain't plannin' on fist fight

You ever beat corn and them man in a jug boy?

And he's cooked like rib-eye

I got his girl tellin' me that I did it

I'm screamin' out, "How did I? How did I?"