lirik lagu reyy! (relapseisdangerous) - self esteem
{verse 1}
gang, get to the money, ain’t worried bout hoes
pull out the chop ‘finna aim at his fro
got me some bread but i want some more
oh he talkin shi? leave him on the floor (gang)
hop on a beat, i ain’t try
you tryna hoop but you ballin’ like flight?
link with a hoe, but it’s only at night
roll up a blunt, make sure that it’s tight
hop in a whip, and you know imma push it off
and yo’ b~tch on my d~ck but gon’ make it soft
got some racks and you know imma break it off
and the clothes you know she gon’ take it off
man, i’m never going on a 2 man, with yo’ ugly ass, gon’ scare ’em off
and lil bro finna cry ’cause im up b~tch, man you gotta shake it off
{verse 2}
man, f~ck all that sh~t, i’m just tryna get to the pape
when it comes to the money, you know we ain’t play
you think you tough? ’cause yo big bro let you hold the drac?
for a photo
man i get the yolo
shawty wanna cuff but these hoes ain’t loyal
spinnin’ his block like a muf~ckin’ coil
hop in the whip just to buy me some froyo
say you got ice? diamond test that b~tch, i know that sh~t is foil
i’m finna cook, and you finna boil
hop on a beat and i’m finna show you
say you got clout but n0body know you
sorry to tell you but she finna toy you
hop in a foreign, it don’t need no keys
she tryna cuff? better get on your knees
he want a verse? i’m taxing a fee
cop me a chop and it came with a beam
and he’s all act when it come to the scene
she on my carti, i know she a fein
playin this ho, the f~ck is a steam?
you f~ckin’ that ho? you got no self esteem
{verse 3}
okay lil b~tch
off of the gas, i’m frying my neurons
and you say i got no money, d~mn lil bro, is you a moron?
pull out the chop, finna aim at his forearm
oh he want the smoke? we gettin’ are war on
and you tell me rate the fit, but you rockin’ j’s with jorts on?
d~mn, lil bro you cooked
like d~mn lil bro you cooked
talkin’ that sh~t, get hit with a hook
do you like meg, get shot in the foot
you tryna catch up as if you could
smoking on gas, i’m smoking on wood
stop calling me twin, you not my bud
and i be posted with chris, ’cause we got it from the mud (gang, gang)
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