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no weight - rublow lyrics

[intro]
uh

[verse]
somebody tell glorilla i said, “come and ride this d*ck like a four wheeler”
you big glo’ and i’m big blow, we can have a baby, name her blowrilla (name her blowrilla)
you just like me, i’m f*ck n*gga free, i don’t f*ck with these hoes, n*gga (f*ck with these hoes, n*gga)
papi just sent me a load, it’s already sold, just got off the phone with him (phone with him)
yeah, all the water drippin’ off a n*gga, b*tch, i look like a merman (merman)
these n*ggas be actin’ like groupies, keep askin’ me questions and makin’ my nerves bad
yo’ b*tch wanna f*ck, keep hittin’ me up, tryna come see ’bout this third leg (third leg)
rubbin’ my hands like stunna while countin’ this paper, i signed with the birdman, blow
both eyes open, third eye too, see this sh*t from a bird’s eye view
n*gga play, we gon’ murder you
choppa sang like erykah badu
married to the money, said, “i do” (i do)
might need me a best man
i’m clutchin’ the fn
i punch with my right and shoot with my left hand
that gas and scale, my bread and b*tter
i’m trappin’, i’m fresh out the gutter
i left the city and took all of my n*ggas with me, this somethin’ like harriet tubman
get what i want, some say that i’m stubborn
you play with my money, you n*ggas in trouble
she wanna link, ho wanna f*ck me
ain’t ’bout no paper, then, b*tch, it ain’t nothin’ (nothin’)
nah, this ain’t personal, ho, this business
i need my money, i need my percentage
these f*ck n*ggas play and get hit with this glizzy
shoot with precision, it ain’t no missin’
she for the streets, ho for the trenches
i f*ck that b*tch once, gave her back to the city
unlike these n*ggas, i rap what i’m livin’
still in the trap house, wrappin’ these pigeons, let’s get it
bag on his head, go get ’em
all my n*ggas dope dealin’
cold heart, n*gga, no feelings
them head hunters, i’ll send ’em
i don’t trust no b*tch or no n*gga
these n*ggas talkin’ ’bout they havin’ motion, but me and my n*ggas, we havin’ momentum
thirty shots in this denim
rap n*gga want him a feature, i really don’t feel him
foot on the gas, ain’t taking no break
came up from nothin’ and made me a way
servin’ that food, i’ll make ’em a plate
my junky need it, i ain’t making him wait
used to eat noodles, now steak in my face
.40 on me when i’m catchin’ a play
r.i.p. cuzo fishscale
how you gon’ flex on a b*tch with no weight?
blow (blow)
[outro]
like, how you gon’ flex on a b*tch with no weight? (no weight, no weight, no weight)

- rublow lyrics

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