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bad heart - rmc mike lyrics

[intro]
what up, pablo?
(his name’s pablo)
ghetto boyz sh*t, n*gga (b*tch, come on p)

hey, i got a bad heart
bro got some wock’, i’m pourin’ red out the glass jar
make your b*tch beg to give me head in a fast car
shoot ot to bring some ‘bows back, i gotta pack smart
bullets whistle past n*ggas’ head, sound like a ‘cat comin’
full*time rapper, i put the dope on the back burner
girly steady f*ckin’ on them bums, now she back burnin’
thirty shots out that glock, boy, i got a wack jumper
d*mn, i bet i pop somethin’
the weed i’m smokin’ on, i swear it’s louder than a glock dumpin’
pop a perc’ and f*ck my b*tch face, i see snot runnin’
i know the fans waitin’ on me to drop, i got a lot comin’
ghetto boy sh*t, n*gga, i’m a real 6 baby
made my uncle lay the foundation, he a bricklayer
brodie steady playin’ with that dog, he a pit maker
cali plug sent a lot of sh*t, you could pick a flavor
cookie, runtz, or exotic, which one you like?
told my mama we gon’ be rich, she like, “son, you right”
guaranteed to knock a n*gga out, he let me punch him twice
i’ma get this b*tch pregnant if she let me f*ck tonight
leave the b*tch soon as the baby drop, i don’t give two f*cks
she nasty like a lame n*gga givin’ out the poo touch
my daddy keep a basketball around, but he don’t hoop much
hit a n*gga block with three k’s like the ku klux
but i ain’t racist, though
head*hunter suckin’ d*ck all night, she got face control
but i could never stick my d*ck in her, she got payless on
let my granny hit the ‘wood once, she like, “wait, that’s strong”
cut the stock off the long k, now it’s a baby drac’
girly know the way to my heart, this b*tch made me stay
grandaddy still pimpin’ b*tches, he eighty*eight
codeine had me in a headlock, i made a great escape
20k in dubs take up sp*ce, i’ma switch to blues
all my n*ggas fresh and got money, b*tch, pick and choose
this gun i got’ll turn your head into pickle juice
my auntie get high around her daughter, now she sniffin’ too
now that’s a d*mn shame
we made it on our own, n0body gave us a d*mn thing
i never scammed, but i can up them racks like i’m bandgang
five*seven hit his kneecap, broke his hamstring
fifty cal cost ’bout ten racks, i’m ’bout to drop one, f*ck it
i’m the same n*gga from last year, just with a lot more money
i’m the cleanest fat n*gga round, but my pop so muddy
f*ck, i’m tryna flip a brick, i need a lot more junkies
pandemic got the drugs hot, so i’ma stick to rappin’
caught dog layin’ with his b*tch and i flipped the mattress
bally, burberry, balenciaga, i’m mixin’ fashion
good at throwin’ hands, but still’ll give a n*gga pistol action
i’m just tellin’ y’all my life and how i’m really livin’
eight ninety*five for my belt, this b*tch b.b. simon
limo tint on every whip i’m in, you can’t see who in it
i was tryna tell y’all for the longest, now they see who winnnin’
b*tch, check the accolades
i’m from flint, but i be in the yak like a backwards k
street n*gga, finna buy a house out where my pastor stay
i’ll pass out a free gram before i pass the drac’
[outro]
(his name’s pablo)
(come on p)

- rmc mike lyrics

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