On The Horn Lyrics – Rich The Kid
Singer: Rich The Kid
Title: On The Horn
You know what I mean? Migo Gang sh#t
Flippa
Slaughter Gang, 21 sh#t
You know what I mean?
Hit a n#gg# in the head (Hit him)
We ain’t shooting at the legs (Naw)
Back in the day had a trick bike, had a bad b#tch on the pegs (b#tch!)
Some of my n#gg#s bang blue (Crip)
Some of my n#gg#s bang red (Blood)
Some of my n#gg#s bang black (GD)
All of my n#gg#s keep straps (Grrah)
Spend three hundred on a napp (Ayy!)
They sucking, f#ck the whole trap
b#tch, you know my pockets fat (Sloppy)
Quavo walking Warren Sapp (Sacks)
Takeoff buying only Act (Lean!)
You n#gg#s sipping just to act (Actors!)
Bought a Bimmer, wrapped it matte (Skrrt)
Got a shooter, peep hole out the back (Grraw!)
Never been a minority (Naww)
Take the pot and Chuck Norris it (Oh!)
You n#gg#s looking unfortunate (Woo)
Different types of babies like a orphanage (Babies!)
I hit my money in the storage
I hate when I had to go to court and sh#t (Hate it!)
You thinking that I’m cooking up porridge (Cooking!)
The way I’m whipping up my wrist and sh#t (Whip it!)
Damn, this hoe she annoying
After I f#ck her, I’m finna get rid of the b#tch (Gone!)
What type of sh#t that he on
Go get the 30 young n#gg#, go empty the clip (Grraw!)
Slaughter Gang, I’m the king b#tch
Mac 90 with the beam, b#tch
Hi-Tech, you sipping green b#tch
21, hold the pot with my left arm
Catching plays like Brett Favre
You a gold fish and I’m a f#cking shark
Whip the pot n#gg#, whip it hard
AK make a n#gg# Hit The Quan
Gas bag like I own the farm
She blowing on it like she on a horn
100 round drum and that stick
Pull up, roll the windows down and I hit
You cuffing that b#tch and she loyal to dick
Chasing money, I can’t lay with no b#tch
Murda Gang, we don’t play with the beef
Put ’em on a plate and we gonna eat
n#gg#s snitching, I put 10 on the G’s
Margielas, I put rent on my feet
n#gg#s p#ss#, I see through ’em they weak
f#ck 12, we keep sh#t in the streets
I brought her to the spot that b#tch was a freak
f#cked her on the floor, can’t f#ck up my sheets
Offset!
We really invented you n#gg#s
The judge tried to sentence a n#gg#
f#ck a partner, my .44 my n#gg#
Stuck in the pickle, grinding from a nickel
Trapping in trenches, two bricks in the rental
I’m crazy I’m psycho, it’s ’bout to get physical
Run a circle ’round the plug, that’s a pick and roll
Feds watching so I walk on my tippy toes
I’m rich as b#tch, I want in on that lick
I’m not romantic, my bullet gon’ kiss
Get in that pot, get the work in your wrist
I was born with the gift, got the fame and the grip
Hop in the jet and I take me a trip
Geeked out on codeine, I sip and I sip
Jump off the stage, I might jump out the VIP
I’m covered in money, covered like a quimp
I’m smoking on cookie, not smoking on piff
Don’t talk to the police, not giving out tips
That ain’t that boot, that molly look too clear
I don’t care what you heard, I jump straight in my Lier
Standing in the kitchen, cooking fish fillet
Run up my money, I stash me a Wraith
Don’t run up on me n#gg#, pump your brakes
I feed you the .223, dinner plate!
Run up on me n#gg#, catch a slug
50 and the 40, I don’t use a glove
You know we got the straps up in the club
I don’t f#ck with you, you a dub
21 Gang, we got weight
All of my n#gg#, we straight
Pull up on a n#gg#, we’ll take
Headshot a n#gg#, leave him in a lake
Round table with the Migo Gang and the Slaughter Gang, we on break
b#tch too skinny I don’t want her, f#ck the b#tch, the b#tch might break
I got a hundred round drum on that K
I keep that b#tch with me, you know that bae
Never let a n#gg# know where I stay
Have a n#gg# staking out where you stay
I get that cash, I ain’t got time to play
Hold up that choppa, this mask on my face
Shoot out the doulie then pull off in the Wraith
Curious George, got bananas in K’s
p#ss# n#gg#s turn to preachers like Ma$e
Finna slide to where I keep me a K
Juvenile hit a n#gg# with tre
On Tenwood, post with that K
WOO!
Whipping a brick with a frying pan
Made a 100k with a broke hand
Trapping down with the desert eagle
Actavis all in my 2 liter
Finessing the plug for a whole thang
Rollie all white like the cocaine
I got a freak with a nose ring
Cut that b#tch down like I’m 2 Chainz
Walking around with a 100 thou’
I’m actually rich, you just talk about it
Pull up with choppers and air it out
I empty the clip in your mama house
Hit a jug for the work, still serving
Get rich or die trying like Curtis
I roll with a brick and she nervous
Pull out the Wraith when I’m flexing on purpose
I started trapping in first grade
I put the lean in a lemonade
I pour a four, got a fever
Dab school, I’m the teacher
Riding scrap with the nina
Big balling, no bleachers
100k for one feature
Bad b#tch, she no keeper
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Lyrics Rich The Kid – On The Horn
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