Lyrics: Carl-Mikael Berlander/Chester Roscoe
Music: Carl-Mikael Berlander/Chester Roscoe
[Intro]
Yeah
Real Rx
Yuh
[Verse]
Walk in this b***h with prescription pills
It ain't got no seal, I'ma sip it still
Glick in my hand, like, "Be still"
You move wrong, you could be killed
Walked in like the king of the hill
Draco sound like Boomhauer
These niggas move like true cowards
In my Girbauds, a few thousand
Glock loaded, I ain't gotta c**k it
Money rag hangin' while I'm in Compton
Nigga, what's crackin with you, cuz'?
Heard you got that ratchet with you, cuz'
Boy, you must think I'm a stupid ****
B***h, this lighter on me, cuz'
There ain't no way I'm lackin, cuz'
Up this b***h and back 'em up
Talk stupid, pack him up
Paramedics wrap him up
Glick on me for any occasion
Glock make a nigga speak Jamaican
My head hurt, where the Perc's at?
Make a nigga take a dirt nap
I walk in this b***h like, "Hold it down"
Drac' got her t*****s done, fifty rounds
Glock got a stick hangin' out
Bend the corner in the whip, hangin' out it
He fresh as ****, he bought the new Js
I'm tryna knock the n***a outta 'em
N***a, I'm higher than a b***h
I'm so high, I see cuz'
I grab my Glock, like, "What the ****?"
They say, "Pap', you a ****in' bum"
They blame it on the pills and the mud
They say I ain't shit, still give me love
It's fake, but they still give me hugs
They still smile when they dap me up
Talk about me when I'm out of earshot
Point blank range, got a clear shot
Head tap and give him an earshot
N****s move like Undercover Brother
Papi just a dirty mother****a
Grew up on the east, nobody loved him
He don't e'en to know how to love nobody
Run down like Treyway, Papi Shotti
I don't know what he said but I shot him
Beam on his head, I got him
They say with braids I look like Rocky
Walk in this b***h like the Shower Posse
I'm high as ****, I'm out my body
I don't know where the **** I parked my Audi
If you want a deal, then don't even call me
The opps mad, they super salty
I don't really like doin' no hooks
I dish that rock like a no-look
These niggas do not hit no juggs
I'm strapped to the teeth when I'm in the hood
I made so much money on the block
I made way more money than my opps
I say my grace at the pot
Open the safe with my Glock
I can't let 'em take what I got
B***h, I had to slay for my spot
Real Rx, who gon' say I'm not?
They say the wrong thing, they gettin' shot
Glock in my hand, I'm Fetty Wap
Spoon in my hand, I'm Betty Crock
Cook crack in a spaghetti pot
Top rope, Spike Dudley with the leg drop
I beat that work with a egg-beater
Cool it off, throw the plate in the freezer
Cold water runnin' from the sink, leave it
Auntie don't know how to move discretely
Brillo pads all on the ****in' counter
Ain't no money machine on the counter
I don't need a money machine to count up
Cuz' at the table loadin' rounds up
Spin on the opps, finna do a round-up
They say I paint the picture so vivid
Nigga, this not a picture I'm tryna paint
I'm tryna tell you how the **** I'm livin'
Rap good, but I still hit licks
Still up the Glock and take your shit
Still bring Auntie off of stims
Still in the hood, it is what it is
They say, "Papi, one day you gon' get a deal"
Yeah, whatever, you still ain't gettin' no deal
I got weed, hard, soft, and pills
Make one call, I'll be there