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set it off - rmc mike lyrics

[verse 1: rmc mike]
a lot of money comin’ in right now, i just stack it up
let me see the p*ssy, turn your ass around and then come back it up
i done gave this b*tch a shot of casamigos, now she actin’ up
plug called me with some actavis and now we actin’ up
pour a deuce in a small pop and get activated
they like, “mike, why the f*ck you leave the streets?” ’cause i graduated
i’m high as h*ll, she wanna suck my d*ck, it got me agitated
so we did it anyway, and sh*t, i had a baby, just laid her
congratulations, i’m like, “don’t have the baby”
she had that b*tch for ’bout three months, i might just stab the baby
no, no, can’t do no kids, b*tch, you know who i’m is
she said, “don’t leave,” i did, i had to freeze my wrist
b*tches ask me all the time like, “mike, why you like this?”
she gotta wanna f*ck me bad, no, i can’t choose my b*tch
i caught a cramp bustin’ a pistol, why it shoot like this?
i pressed it once, it went splat, why it shoot like this?
i’m the g.o.a.t., and otherwise, if you don’t like me, then it’s f*ck you
i just bought my second plr today and it was custom
and it got three beams on that b*tch, i catch your sight, boy, you in trouble
caught him dancin’ with his b*tch, i hit him with a cupid shuffle
if you the boss, then who the muscle?
i got on, i knew the hustle
to the streets, we accustomed
you wanna beef? we gon’ touch you
orange fleece, louis duffle
hundred thousand, we done touched ’em
foreign b*tch, think she russian
stashed the dope, we ain’t flush it
[verse 2: babyfxce e]
you paid her bills after you f*cked that b*tch, you a buster
if i can’t see myself havin’ kids with her, i won’t f*ck her
beatin’ n*ggas’ ass down in the box, pj tucker
if we get fl!cked while i got that sh*t on me, i make her stuff it
i don’t know how my b*tch thick, lil’ b*tch eat a fry a day
lashes fat as f*ck, she blink three times, she might fly away
he tried to order a pound from out of town, he got an ounce of shake
if you ain’t got all the pape’ on you right now, just call me when you paid
widebody h*llcat, he dropped that and he still ass
stop tryna make some extras off a ‘bow and get a real bag
i passed rappers that was tryin’ they hardest, now i feel bad
i can take an l any day, i bet i still last, n*gga
this sh*t in me, it’s not on me
just spent a bag up on this sh*t, it came from barcelona
.308 bullets comin’ out the chop, this b*tch’ll park a hummer
beatin’ her sh*t for hours, get on my phone, she try to stop from cummin’
yeah, n*gga, i’m young, but i know some sh*t
don’t look out for me now, then try to tell me that i owe you sh*t
give my fifth grader a chop and tell him, “you gotta blow this b*tch”
had to tell him hamburger style to fold it ’cause he ain’t know how to close that b*tch

[outro: babyfxce e]
yeah
it’s with an x, n*gga
fxce

- rmc mike lyrics

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