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Hate To Leave - Rio da Yung Og, Rmc Mike & Grindhard E Lyrics

By: Admin | Artist: R rio da yung og rmc mike grindhard e | Published: 2024-25-09T21:30:28:00+07:00

Lirikku.ID - Hate To Leave - Rio da Yung Og, Rmc Mike & Grindhard E Lyrics: Halo Lirikku.ID, Dalam konten ini, kami menyediakan chord gitar untuk lagu "Hate To Leave - Rio da Yung Og, Rmc Mike & Grindhard E Lyrics" yang dinyanyikan oleh Toton R rio da yung og rmc mike grindhard e. Dengan chord yang disajikan, pemula atau penggemar musik dapat dengan mudah memainkan lagu ini dengan gitar mereka sendiri. Kami menyajikan chord dengan akurasi tinggi sehingga pemain dapat mengikuti alunan musiknya dengan baik. Juga, kami akan memberikan informasi tambahan mengenai lirik lagu dan mungkin beberapa tips untuk menyempurnakan permainan gitar. Konten ini cocok untuk penggemar musik yang ingin belajar lagu baru atau bagi mereka yang ingin menikmati kesenangan bermain musik dengan gitar. Silahkan disimak Hate To Leave - Rio da Yung Og, Rmc Mike & Grindhard E Lyrics Berikut Dibawah ini untuk Selanjutnya.

[intro: rmc mike]
(it’s a wayne beat)
b*tch

[verse 1: rmc mike]
this drank in my cup cost more than your mortgage
draco, that’s my bae, but i’m in love with shootin’ 40s
how the f*ck is you a pimp and you make love doin’ orgies?
i done took twelve shots in the club, now i’m h*rny
b*tch make that ass clap and throw it back ’cause i’m important
unc’ mad as h*ll ’cause i done took some packs out his order
used to sell it raw, but i done made some racks off the water
if my b*tch make it back with that pack, i won’t charge her
mclaren got three hundred on the dash, n*gga, what’s a hemi?
lil’ b*tch tried to make me mad, i done upped a fifty
made two hundred racks off spеakin’ facts [?]
it be a lot of p*ssy sh*t goin’ on around, but i love my city
flint town, 810 sh*t, we got choppеrs heavy
white boy done threw thirty pointers in the chocolate presi’
gen5 glock out the box came optic*ready
brain matter on the dashboard look like a pot of spaghetti

[verse 2: rio da yung og]
you could make fifty racks off an ounce of fetty
i just cut a n*gga drank with an ounce of petty
who tryna go to war with me? i think my chopper ready
ran out of drank and percocets, called doctor eric
b*tch, your baby daddy still can’t f*ck with me
everybody can get shot if it’s up to me
used to sell zips of hard, prayin’ i’d touch a b
now i might wake up tomorrow mornin’ and drop bumblebee
i got four thousand for a pint, who got morton grove?
you could f*ck my b*tch and [?] my sons, just don’t touch the stove
twenty*one hundred for a f*ckin’ coat
i been gettin’ so much money, what the f*ck is broke?
[verse 3: grindhard e]
quali’, morton, hi*tech, act’, and tris, i done drunk it all
i used to pour my lean up in pops, now i drink it raw
used to f*ck with the dog, now we f*ck with dogs
we don’t talk on the phone no more when it’s work involved
they pull me over, they gon’ have to come and search with the dogs
my b*tch stopped bringin’ her friends around ’cause i f*cked ’em all
my fiend went in debt, i told him he could come work it off
plr, fn, and glocks, we done shot ’em all
when i was f*ckin’ with the yay, used to leave it raw
bad b*tch cuban*puerto rican, i had to f*ck her raw
how the f*ck my n*gga get indicted? he never served a log
now he in the fed library learnin’ all the laws

[verse 4: rmc mike]
seven guns in this vehicle, please do not approach it
girly ass fake, but it move with a lot of motion
pmk kennels, [?] got gucci collar on her
she still let me f*ck after the club, threw a dollar on her
voss water washin’ down my percs, yeah, i’m bougie now
honey pack in a patrón bottle bring coochie out
fat n*gga, but i could still beat your b*tch doonies down
i’m quiet, too, watch me turn up when it’s juice around
d*mn, do that make me a fiend?
had to stop drinkin’ odell, that sh*t made me mean
rub my nut in my b*tch face like it’s maybelline
your drank cut, bro got some sh*t that’ll make it clean
[verse 5: rio da yung og]
fetty wap can turn a half an ounce to eighty g’s
cold*hearted n*gga, b*tch, my heart only eight degrees
whipped out an ar with monkey nuts and dropped eighty*three
silencer on the fn quieter than a baby sneeze
why your nose keep runnin’? you hit powder, don’t you?
was f*ckin’ hoes in the livin’ room ’til the couch was broken
head weak, you be suckin’ d*ck for two hours, don’t you?
oh, you a stripper? i’ll hit the day shift and shower on you
when granny take her t**th out, she give the best head
i got a fresh tray of ice cubes, i need some meth heads
f*ck some akorn, the glass hi*tech the best red
half of my opps in a wheelchair and the rest dead

[verse 6: grindhard e]
went on a l!ck, sh*t went bold, he got left for dead
my opps either d*e*a*d or on a deathbed
rap b*tch keep textin’ me, she got left on read
i heard you sleep on a blow*up mattress, you need a better bed
seen two or three of my people od, i stopped takin’ beans
watched a n*gga get k!lled over a sale, i stopped takin’ fiends
when a b*tch get around me, she just hate to leave
i heard you need a j*o*b, come rake my leaves

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