A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Rich Gang

"OG Bobby Johnson (Rich Gang Remix)"

[Verse 1: Tyga]

Word on the streets I got gold bricks
Put king gold chains on yo' b*tch
Let her cry for me, that's Hootie in a blow fish
She gone blow di*k til' she pop how many licks (Ow!)
Blow this popsicle stand quick
Insane n*gga getting bent in a Bentley
Hot-head trigger n*gga don't tempt me
Make that ass shake like a Wendy's fosty, frostbit
In the Middle East Jebediah
I'm the Great Alexander Empire
Bubba Gump, put shrimp on your Donna
Rocky Balboa, heart of a lion, Tyga
Not to be f*cked with, tyrant
On the highest level, top of Mount Zion
She say she never f*cked me then she lying
Team so strong could've been the menace or the viking, f*ck it
Two tears n*gga in the bucket
You don't like me, and b*tch I love it
Living life like it's Golden State Nuggets
Stephen Curry, got 30 in the luggage
Thot ass b*tch you'll never get a lover
Timbuktu, reincarnated King Musa
Talk abouta Medusa? These n*ggas just users
You ain't even do sh*t
I'm the co-co-coolest, T-Ruler
Sharp shooter, Red Ruger
Not human, Lex Luther, super muntant
Still grooving, still chrome, still ruthless
Translucent, Raw still is the best to do this
Raw ain't gotta prove sh*t, the proof's in the bank b*tch
Do this sh*t for my kid's kids
[?] Docle, you don't even know what that is n*gga

[Hook: Que]

Word on the street I'm a suspect
Hangin' with the killers in the projects
Potato on the barrel keep quiet (shh)
Catch a n*gga slippin' from behind (boom)
O.G. Bobby Johnson!
O.G. Bobby Johnson!
O.G. Bobby Johnson!
O.G. Bobby Johnson!

[Verse 2: Que]

Wipe a n*gga out like an outbreak
Choppa start bustin' make the house shake
f*ck n*ggas sweeter than a pound cake
Get your eyes on your chin better watch what your mouth say
Lean with the footballs got a n*gga trippin' (Xans)
f*ck it, f*ck it, n*gga keep sippin'
Dirty AK with the beam on it
Clip so long I could lean on it
Free my n*ggas locked behind bars
Moved a hundred pounds before a lawyer beat the charge (beat it)
Pack touch down run it back like Marshall Faulk
If a n*gga try to rob f*ck it hit em with the hawk (boom)


[Verse 3: Jae Millz]

Hanging with the shooters known to buss techs
You don't get my hitters upset
Have that chopper sounding like we playing dubstep
OG Millzy Johnson, OG Millzy Johnson
Got years in this sh*t, no fronting
Sneak dissin' just pray we never run in
Real n*gga Saturday to Friday
Doin' 110 on the highway
Halfway closed my eyes lay
Higher than the n*gga that live in [?]
Everybody's competition and I'm tryna violate
Any motherf*cker that's in my way
n*gga try me ima show him how I play
How that 9 play and that 45 play
Straight up we'll leave a n*gga sideways
And if he don't believe in God I hope his mom pray
Old n*gga try to play me like
Nothing I can do I'm like Carlo
Young old n*gga tryna make my money dilate
Serving di*k to your girl to that new Beyonce
She swallow Millz in the morning like a latte
And them young shooters all do what I say
Word on the street I'm a suspect
Hanging with the shooters known to buss techs
You don't wanna get my hitters upset
Have them choppers sounding like we playing dubstep


A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

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