Roxanne 3X

[Intro: Rx Papi]

Huh

Dawg shit records

[Verse 1: Rx Papi]

Lil nigga ran off with it he ain’t bring no cane back nigga

Got money moved out the hood you can’t blame that nigga

Put this Glock in your face rearrange that nigga I ain’t the same cat nigga

But I’ll still get down on you put this big pound on you

This bitch got 30 rounds for you talk that dog shit daily don’t no nigga do it like me nigga

Paid twenty thousand fucked your bitch in a pair of white Nikes

Nigga the block hot they know my name and they know my face

When this Glock in my hand get the fuck up out my way

When I was six teen I wasn’t working I was robbing everyday

You don’t know shit bout drugs deals you don’t know no slug feel

[?] smoke since I was seven unc ass on the drugs still

Everybody ‘round my way sold dope nigga

It is what it is it’s gon’ go how it’s gon’ go nigga

One thing about pap they gon’ say I ain’t no hoe nigga

And I’m train to go nigga I’m on go nigga off the rip with it

I got a motha fucking Glock it got a stick it in

I switch and еmpty the whole clip in less thеn -

I switch and empty the whole clip bitch I been trippin’

This bitch still hittin’ my niggas on some bullshit don’t try that shit with us

Nigga take yo chain and watch off my niggas stick ya up

All my niggas grimy and they Shiesty that’s just how we coming

I don’t give a fuck about no record deal I want some money

Bitch!

They say lil’ cuz need meds that lil’ nigga crazy

12 shot Tom Brady Glock 9 no three eighty

Ayy didn’t yo mama ever tell you not to talk to strangers

Bitch I seen neph cook up with a wire hanger

Bitch my Glock in hand if I feel I’m in danger up this bitch and get to banging

Pussy ass niggas know wassup with us it’s thirty in the Glock I can’t knuckle up

Lil cuz got the chop out the drop he gon buck some up

Crackers give me money I spend the half on dope the other half on guns

Fuck my opps they ain’t on nun you a pussy so is yo son

Nigga tell me I can’t cook dope ight bitch imma show you

One thing I can’t stand is when a nigga talk like he know you

Let me know what’s on my face that make me look like I’m approachable

Niggas on the internet they talk like they got smoke with you

I pull up on my opps and do exactly what I’m supposed to do

I was masked up like a fuck but they like “Papi, we still know it’s you”

They took the jury when I’m rolling through the Glock same size as 42

[?] do the shit my hoes a do half the city got my dick in they mouth

I done shot so many niggas house made ‘em move out

They know we inter state babies we gotta find a new route

These niggas think they El Chapo they only loved a few ounces

Real dope boy my pockets filled up with a few thousands (Yeah, yeah)

[Break: RXKNephew]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Aye!

Yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah

[Verse 2: RXKNephew]

Ya broke as fuck you better go get you some

Opps be sharing guns for Facebook pictures they ain’t hitting nun

This Glock I got I do not like to show unless I’m “Boom boom boom”

She said that she got shit to do bitch I got shit to do

Hit that trap I beat that bowl I pray to my rag like a [?]

All the opps be on a nigga dick they ain’t got shit to do

I can put ya mans on all our bags got stamps on them

Get the fuck from ‘round here nigga Big Neph ain’t putting no stamp on it

Ayy this .556 a turn him Forrest Gump crack that look like Ms Puff

My lil bitch she a fine one how I know she fuck with me cause lil mama gon’ line her some

I’m not the one to play with bitch! Go find you one

Every ten bags get tied up that’s a bundle for you

Cook it and fold it for you wrap that bitch and in foil for you

All my opps flick QP’s and wear mall jewelry dope boy white tee

I ain’t gotta go to the mall for it that thirty sound like - chicken head

Six, six fah, grrt turn him to crazy leg aye might drop a bag on her she got crazy head

I might just change my mind crazy in my head

I got that super [?] like I just left the feds

I feel like Rokane put this Glock down use my hands

That bitch go - bitch I come for the grams that pot go “Skirr” then blow up when I beat the pan

They like chill I’m like hell naw do the pot like pap and [?] in the backyard

They never leave they yard they backyards again

Catch a nigga “Fah!” Like he Shawn and em’ aye!

Pat down my [?] i put the Glock on him

Hell nah I ain’t a boxer Glock make him freeze up like papa doc and them

Walk in that bitch beat the pot like [?]

Not going in bitch can’t get the Glock in there

You not from around here can’t trap shop

24 hour we one stop shop