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off to the races (feat. rtg) - lord $hredda lyrics

[produced by toflito]
lord! ha!
four’s up in this bit* (huh)

[chorus: lord $hredda & rtg]
look, homie keep that .5 like a bible, that b*tch sacred (sheeeesh)
he down to ride like dacrey (ha!)
that type sh*t you don’t play with (ha!)
b*tch i’m a goat but i ain’t talking like satan
gotta do what f*ck n*gga foul like a fragrence (oh lord!)
it’s a full sprint if we all off to the races (shoot)
take you back to the bases, worst nightmare like i’m jason
i don’t really know how to love unless it’s on an occasion (ayy)
she want me to feel but i’m emotionally vacant

[verse 1: rtg]
[my murder pressure to me like the hotter?]
moonwalk in this b*tch with the stars in it (bling)
all you n*gga really funny like martin (ha!)
playing with milli, your face on the carton
i get lonely with my gl!ck, like a cartoon
(stop playing gangster, we know you aren’t goon)
i don’t conversate, i’m done did the arguments
let my anger out, i’m not bout to bottle it
my bih body on some bottle sh*t (bam!)
.45 ripped the u on your partner sh*t
boom man! (man it’ll rip through ya cartilage)
([?] blessing [?])
if i ain’t ridin’ for my bro, what you calling it?
i eat lil baby hanable
lefty
she asked for the weed, i’m not here for it (what?)
[?] we smokin on gas, son is preassure i hit him one time
hit her for one time only on the dresser (d*mn)
[chorus: lord $hredda]
homie keep that .5 like a baller, that b*tch sacrey
he down the raw like dacrey
that type sh*t you don’t play with
b*tch i’m a goat but i ain’t talking like satan
gotta do what f*ck n*gga foul like a flagrant
it’s a full sprint if we all off to the races
take you back to the bases, worst nightmare like i’m jason
i don’t really know how to love unless it’s [i’m on?] occasion ([i’m on occasion?])
she want me to feel but i’m emotionally vacant

[verse 2: lord $hredda]
going for the gold if i’m off to the races
all white on, and my b*tch might think i’m racist
nah, i was chasing money now i let it chase me
ooh she love the smell of me. the money is the fragrance
armed and dangerous, shooting and they aiming
if you a shooting star, i’m aiming at the faming
talk down, leave you dead on the pavement
my homie “trigger finger” itching till it’s painless (yeahhh, yeah, yeah)

- lord hredda lyrics

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