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long live dee - rmc mike lyrics

[intro]
b*tch

[verse]
countin’ up thirty bands while i ride through the 6
n*ggas actin hardbody, but be cryin’ over a b*tch
i be ot, shoppin’ for a line of that sh*t
shsoutout to that n*gga dame, i’m livin’ life behind tint
rep ghetto boyz, but it’s still rmc until i die
real money counters, hit the strip club and let it fly
rip my n*gga dee, i know he up there hustlin’ in the sky
all my ice on, you touch one of these chains, you gon’ die
watch flooded like niagara falls
it’s money on the floor when that n*gga fanta call
f*ckin’ sh*tup for a minute, check my catalogue
the inside of the benz look like a basketball
ain’t no rats involved
pop a 30, another 30, that’s a 60
first foreign car i did a drill in was a bentley
built a switch on a glock, i shot it ’til it’s empty
only speak the truth, tell the fans, “holler if you hear me”
we on the goal line, gotta punch it in, b*tch, it’s go time
been fresh as f*ck, ‘member back then rockin’ cole haan
all marble in my kitchen, twelve racks for a floor shine
i swear we ran up a half a million dollars within no time
between me, ri, jay, louie
our everyday lifestyle look like we makin’ movies
a two of tris and four of wock’, i’m finna make a smoothie
f*ck her once, then i dip, no, i can’t date a groupie
i’m livin’ like a rockstar without the live band
you took your pistol to the car, but i snuck mine in
i took enough time off, now it’s time in
pop a n*gga in his sh*t, i catch him lie again
i’m talkin’ wraith or the dawn or the ghost, i’m undecided
my new b*tch want the attention that’s undivided
you gotta trust the captain of the plane, i’m the pilot
yes, i’ll do a feature for ten ‘bows of exotic
you gon’ send that sh*t for real? well, here my addy, n*gga
they not comin’ to my crib, it’s my daddy’s, n*gga
been waitin’ on that day to take care of my family, n*gga
i think he scared to come outside, he a family n*gga
stay your ass in the crib if you ain’t tryna play
.308 got distance, hit him from a block away
fell in love when the first time i shot the k
chopper rock his ass to sleep like he dr. j
okay, my mind f*cked up, sh*t, i’m just a gremlin walking
i can’t argue with no b*tch, i’m too rich for talking
bust down cartier, b*tch, my wrist a faucet
i pray every n*gga die that be pillow talking
sh*t talker number one, up in my own lane
i’m out the country with my asian, eatin’ lo mein
we knocked the rap door down and got the code changed
you know i keep a heater too, this world a cold game

- rmc mike lyrics

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