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practice - rio da yung og lyrics

[intro]
(it’s a wayne beat)
twenty racks cash, a pint of, alright
yeah, ghetto boyz sh*t, n*gga

[verse]
twenty racks cash, a pint of glass, and a k on me
told kid dog should just claim krispylife, i put a k on him
put a lot of ice in the cup, pour an eight on it
drinkin’ fours of wock’ every day, puttin’ weight on me
oh, we was talkin’ ’bout a gun? mine stay on me
last year i told my cali b*tch i’m comin’ west, she still waitin’ on me
treat they block like a blank canvas, i’ma paint on it
i thought you poured a deuce in here, why i don’t taste nothin’?
million dollars cash, any less is unacceptable
tryna f*ck, but she text back too fast, kinda skeptical
if i had a life jacket and you was drownin’, i wouldn’t rescue you
walk up on a random b*tch, i wanna have s*x with you
look, b*tch, if you ain’t tryna book a show, i ain’t textin’ you
b*tch, i know you f*cked ray, i ain’t question you
i wanna buy a pint of eight, a six, and an extra two
oh, your brother from the regencys, i can’t mess with you
i’m in a trash bag, man, y’all n*ggas in a store bag
seen mike with a half a ‘bow and bought the whole bag
i feel like joe, i got a bunch of hoes like 4sho mag
can’t believe michael kids sold the drank, man, i’m so mad
i just left out n*ggas’ hood, i’m finna go back
n*gga, you wasn’t really in the hood, that’s a throwback
i’m always the first to start shootin’, i don’t blow back
i know i got two pints of wock’, where some more at?
i just cut into jasmine, where simone at?
i be walkin’ up on random hoes like, “where your phone at?”
seen lil d drop thirty shots where the store at
me and lil e drunk forty pops, why we so fat
you only got thirty*five hundred for a verse, i don’t want that
oh, you ain’t get your weed from a1? i can’t smoke that
last n*gga parked his shoes here got a toetag
f*ck around and bought an eight of cut, drunk two deuces, took a four back
in a n*gga hood, down south sellin’ dope sacks
askin’ all the bad ratchet hoes where the store at
alright, i already f*cked cakes, where moe at?
f*ck around and wake a b*tch up like, “where your clothes at?”
your n*gga wear court jeans, i don’t even wear amiri
n*ggas wearin’ lab diamonds, lookin’ so silly
i don’t carry four*fives no more, only ten millis
had twenty hoes, left ’em all, only ten miss me
oh, the n*gga actin’ freaky? fn kiss him
tongue kiss, got a drum kit, that’s a big fifty
today, i’m blessin’, buy a drumstick and get six biscuits
young b*tch asked a dumb question, i dismissed her
bum b*tch with some small uggs and some big miss mes
the life i live, should’ve been with kidd, ’cause my fit crispy
just sold dog a cut line of red for like six*fifty
hundred percocets, takin’ forty, i’ma flip sixty
[outro]
ghetto boyz sh*t, n*gga, you know what the f*ck goin’ on
i ain’t even mean to do this song for real
this was a mistake
yeah

- rio da yung og lyrics

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