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genre of spice talk - krispylife kidd lyrics

intro:

alright krispylife, n*gga, it’s with a k, dumbass b*tch ghetto boyz, n*gga, free rio (lorenz, don’t stop)

[verse 1: krispylife kidd]

he live with his granny, so we still gon’ shoot it up bullet hit her oxygen tank, we done blew it up i just ate a bad perc’ and i threw it up where your b*tch at? she in the room with it tooted up mike just took one of my percs, he do too much bro don’t wanna ride with me ’cause i shoot too much every time you say some lame sh*t, you lose two sl*ts me and mike just matched two fours, y’all got a deuce of what?  [verse 2: rmc mike] f*ck the b*tch for twenty*six minutеs, then throw the deucеs up i’m tryna ball, you tryna ball too, you wanna hoop or what? no, i can’t tell you what i got up in my stash, but i’m super up d*mn, kidd, i’m finna go to jail, i shot an uber up auntie can’t buy no dope from me, she don’t oot enough ooh, b*tch got a pink p*ssy on her, but got a doo*doo b*tt catch his ass lackin’ right on mackin, call doodlebug how the f*ck you mad at my success and you don’t do enough?

[verse 3: krispylife kidd & rmc mike] made d*boy nervous rappin’ with the strap out let off a hundred*fifty shots, made him back down i just beat a b*tch back and made her tap out i just beat a b*tch back and blew her back out i’m shootin’ this b*tch from deep, i think— yeah, f*ck that nah, kidd, i’m finna shoot this b*tch from deep, i’m jerry stackhouse drop me off around the corner, i got they whole block mapped out i think he died from shootin’ dice, i guess he cr*pped out d*mn, who want beef with us? i’m in the club crispy as h*ll with a fully tucked copped a new watch, it’s not plain, this b*tch fully bust caught dog with his pants down, now he truly f*cked man, i don’t like switches, but got a k problem he get me pints once a month, i got a straight doctor ours called sh*t*talkin’, y’all got a straight genre money long as h*ll, we ain’t never havin’ pape’ problems i just got twelve pints from a fake doctor i’m finna give them b*tches straight to stan gave a n*gga six bars for an eight of red i won’t pay for the p*ssy, but i’ll pay for head d*mn, my oldhead just shoot this b*tch, he lebron james sl!ck talker, i’ll take your b*tch, danny fontaine put these clippers to your head, that’s a wild fade backdoor to hit my n*gga b*tch, that’s a foul play i put my nuts all in her cream, that’s a parfait meet a b*tch and play mind games like an arcade nah, meet a b*tch and hit her in the car, this a car date spin a block in an old lincoln, this a mark viii nah, mike, the chop long as f*ck like a mark viii nah, bro, this audi fast as f*ck, this an r8 left a stink bomb in his car, hoo left a stink bomb in his whip, now the car stink i think i just drunk some cut, now all my farts stink he pulled up in a v6, i think his car fake left so much money on the floor, we need a yard rake we gotta rake it up two thirty clips looked it better, so i taped ’em up we the hottest in our city, so they hate on us i just re*rocked the bag with some angel dust n*ggas playin’ like some little kids, get his lego crushed

[verse 4: krispylife kidd] yeah i just poured another twelve in a faygo crush i’ll never show no love, n*ggas hate too much b*tch seen my account like, “kidd, how you make so much?” hit his head with a hollow and make his bagel crunch wockhardt, tris, i can make your punch made 60k in one weekend, i can’t make this up hit him one time and he died, that’s a fatal punch  [outro: krispylife kidd] b*tch and that wasn’t mike either yeah rmc sh*t, krispylife sh*t free rio, n*gga, free the main bird b*tch

- krispylife kidd lyrics

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