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lou gram, nacho, rio da yung og & rmc mike – i’m the type كلمات اغاني

[intro]
(what up, prince?)

[chorus: nacho]
i’m the type to spend three bands on shoes
for one pair, you know we walkin’ in loubs
i’m the type to take a brick of some food
hit the blender, turn that b_tch into two
these n_ggas mad ’cause they ain’t gettin’ no loot
jump out the ‘cat, then jump straight in the coupe
[verse 1: lou gram]
used to pay for the plug, now i’m the plug (big lou)
what you re’d up with, i spent that on mud (chump change)
can’t call it dog sh_t, it ain’t least a dub (20k)
they say you d_ck suckin’ when you showin’ love (how?)

[verse 2: nacho]
left a dub with my jeweler, had to ice the neck
n_ggas broke tryna beef, you is not a threat
spent a quarter on my wrist, i should’ve dropped a ‘vette
put a p_ssy on a shirt, i get a n_gga wet
can’t let ’em trick me out of my position
my n_ggas in them trenches tryna work their way up to a million
i don’t know if i should drive or i should send it
the inner city hot, but my n_ggas still servin’ to them pigeons

[verse 3: lou gram]
spend a nickel at revive on two ‘fits (two ‘fits)
at the condo countin’ out fifty blue strips (five bands)
with nacho eatin’ steaks at ruth chris
at club truth, rain you out, leave your booth drenched

[verse 4: nacho]
treat my hood like the road, b_tch, i’m down the way
phone slappin’ hard as h_ll, it do two pounds a day
hoes heavy off this sh_t, they think i’m sellin’ yay
got these ‘bows flew to me, they came from the bay
[verse 5: rio da yung og]
i’m the type of n_gga that can still find actavis
you ain’t really gettin’ money, you just actin’ rich
in high school, i was totin’ guns, sellin’ crack and sh_t
f_ck class, i had a bag, b_tch, i had to skip
i got a glass pint of red, hope i don’t crack this b_tch
but i’m drinkin’ everything when i crack the seal
drivin’ fast, sippin’ red slow, jesus, grab the wheel
you the type of n_gga fake sippin’, boy, that’s amneal
me and lou could drink a gallon and still feel the same
a deuce of act’ in my cup, this b_tch taste like pain
n_gga, i don’t wanna hit your blunt, that sh_t taste like rain
pull that sh_t out, don’t n0body want that fake_ass chain
made a k!lling off them xboxs, never played a game
hit the work when i meet the plug, it never stayed the same
free p, told me stack the change before i get a chain
sl!ck talker, i can get the brain before i get her name

[verse 6: rmc mike]
sixteen lines in the pop, shout out lou gram
this b_tch taste so motherf_ckin’ good, i did the juice dance
h_ll nah, you can’t take a sip, this cup two bands
heard you boys ain’t gettin’ no chicken, n_ggas too ham
yeah, i fell in love with the drank, i don’t do friends
i see you n_ggas flyin’ b_tches out, i got flewed in
if you ain’t ghetto boy or mcd, it’s f_ck you then
i bet we shake the game up when we drop this new sh_t
my b_tch want a popeyes sandwich, i want some ruth chris
i hate when lil’ bro got his strap, he like to shoot sh_t
i tried to hit girly from the back, she was too thick
i dropped a five in a twenty_ounce on some lou sh_t
‘member f_ckin’ all the rat hoes out in suss_x
now everywhere i go, people sayin’, “mike, you next”
bro say he ain’t droppin’ no more chains, he want a new ‘vette
unky sniffed a whole ball of soft and did the two_step

- lou gram nacho rio da yung og rmc mike

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