Rio Flow Songtext
von Peezy
Rio Flow Songtext
Tsk, Tsk (Ooh, Sav killed it)
Ghetto Boyz shit
MCD, Wavy Gang, Iced Up record shit
Yeah, yeah
Millionaires, yeah
Really mean that shit
Yeah, I got rich on a accident
Nigga, I hit yo′ bitch on a accident
Snuck a four-nickel in the club, who you scrappin' with?
Two-Hundred K in all twenties look immaculate
Had to leave the scene for two years now I′m back again
Yeah, did you miss me, ho?
White tee on, Nike joggies, I'm crispy, though
I had to tell my bitch quit callin', I′m with my ho
Yeah, I like bad bitches only
Paid fifty for it and I ain′t set the time on the Rollie
Ten years ago, I had a box Chevy, me and Soda
Fast forward, now i'm slidin′ up the mall in a Rover
Drop a eight in a twenty-four, call it Kobe
I drop your pussy ass, boy I dare you to you run up on me
Had to bring my niggas with me to the top 'cause it′s lonely
Fuck nah, we ain't got the same watch ′cause mines ain't phony
Last spot I hit in Golden Sun with the safe on me
Two bust down rose gold Patek cost eight Rollies
I just sent a bitch to Miami for a makeover
Bitch, it's Ghetto Boyz Ent, we finna takeover
I got real pape′ comin′ in, I gotta stay focused
Brodie owe me a body, nigga, I ain't gotta pay for it
Baby, say she wanna new Chanel, told her, "Wait for it"
Better run that shit on somebody else, bitch, I ain′t goin'
Diamond link cost fifty and you ain′t know it
The shit I'm rockin′ out yo' tax bracket, you a lil boy
Better take yo' hands out yo′ pockets, I′ma lil noided
Catch a body, take the shit to trial, I gotta good lawyer
Gucci loafs on with the slacks, tryna look cordial
Thirty-K in twenties in my pants, made it this morning
I get money sittin' on my ass, bitch, I been doin′ it
I ain't finna beef on Instagram, man, that shit corny
Wanna run you up some pape′, nigga? Hang with me
Just made a hundred-K, shit, I'm buyin′ me a chain this week
I'ont talk down on niggas, that's lame to me
They caught you with a brick, how you out? That′s strange to me
You can take me out the hood, that ain′t changin' me
Thirty pointers in my link, it′s the chain for me
Fell in love with the Hi- Tech, it's the drank for me
Man, niggas ain′t tryna get rich, stay away from me
Ghetto Boyz shit
MCD, Wavy Gang, Iced Up record shit
Yeah, yeah
Millionaires, yeah
Really mean that shit
Yeah, I got rich on a accident
Nigga, I hit yo′ bitch on a accident
Snuck a four-nickel in the club, who you scrappin' with?
Two-Hundred K in all twenties look immaculate
Had to leave the scene for two years now I′m back again
Yeah, did you miss me, ho?
White tee on, Nike joggies, I'm crispy, though
I had to tell my bitch quit callin', I′m with my ho
Yeah, I like bad bitches only
Paid fifty for it and I ain′t set the time on the Rollie
Ten years ago, I had a box Chevy, me and Soda
Fast forward, now i'm slidin′ up the mall in a Rover
Drop a eight in a twenty-four, call it Kobe
I drop your pussy ass, boy I dare you to you run up on me
Had to bring my niggas with me to the top 'cause it′s lonely
Fuck nah, we ain't got the same watch ′cause mines ain't phony
Last spot I hit in Golden Sun with the safe on me
Two bust down rose gold Patek cost eight Rollies
I just sent a bitch to Miami for a makeover
Bitch, it's Ghetto Boyz Ent, we finna takeover
I got real pape′ comin′ in, I gotta stay focused
Brodie owe me a body, nigga, I ain't gotta pay for it
Baby, say she wanna new Chanel, told her, "Wait for it"
Better run that shit on somebody else, bitch, I ain′t goin'
Diamond link cost fifty and you ain′t know it
The shit I'm rockin′ out yo' tax bracket, you a lil boy
Better take yo' hands out yo′ pockets, I′ma lil noided
Catch a body, take the shit to trial, I gotta good lawyer
Gucci loafs on with the slacks, tryna look cordial
Thirty-K in twenties in my pants, made it this morning
I get money sittin' on my ass, bitch, I been doin′ it
I ain't finna beef on Instagram, man, that shit corny
Wanna run you up some pape′, nigga? Hang with me
Just made a hundred-K, shit, I'm buyin′ me a chain this week
I'ont talk down on niggas, that's lame to me
They caught you with a brick, how you out? That′s strange to me
You can take me out the hood, that ain′t changin' me
Thirty pointers in my link, it′s the chain for me
Fell in love with the Hi- Tech, it's the drank for me
Man, niggas ain′t tryna get rich, stay away from me
Writer(s): Daniel Robinson, Phillip Glen Earl Peaks Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
