Lyrics:
no time to explain)
Ah, Richard Millie plain (Plain)
Maybach with the woodgrain (Woodgrain)
Clearport, know the pilot by the name, yeah
Eight
your reflection
[Chorus] - 2X
[Verse 3 - Bubba Sparxxx]
There is no king for the throne I seat
All by myself, so alone I leap
For the young boy, daddy
to D'Elliot
He the one who put me on the whole Herbo thing
Spittin' verbs, switchin' schemes
It's kool-aid in my cup so you can miss me with the lean
And like
Fuck with me, you know what it is
I shoot you arm, leg, leg, arm, head
The heater burnin' bruises on my hip this year
I shoot your arm, leg,
Fuck with me, you know what it is
I shoot you arm, leg, leg, arm, head
The heater burnin' bruises on my hip this year
I shoot your arm, leg,
to take a different route
my Richard mille days
On the way no doubts
Tell em get up out the way
Or my bro’s up in your house
Fuck these hoes Get
in the gas stations, in the CVSs, gettin' gifies
Yeah, and if you really my nigga
Word to mother, we gon' split it fifty-fifty
Yeah, they call me
tickles your fancy
Buy a ticket to France
Just keep your dick in pants
See what's converging on some virgins like he's big Richard Branson
Bring you
in my court of Camelot. I must speak with your
lord and master.
GUARD #1: What, ridden on a horse?
ARTHUR: Yes!
GUARD #1: You're using
indie records show up in a W-E-A box?
By saying your independent, you belittle the whole movement
Real emcee's work hard, ain't got investors to put out
just made them my groupie
Kill the beat the producer gon sue
Best friends names are Richard and Louis (Richard Mille)
Richard Mille on my arm that's 100
right here waiting on you with some open arms
Come to me, I’ll be your Richard Marx n Journey to the sun
‘Cause I know the way you vibe
‘Cause I been been
Words and Music by Jeff Cook and Richard Scott
I am so happy with you in my arms.
Honey, don't you ever leave.
Lay back and love me and tellme
straight out of Virginia
[Chorus: Missy Elliot]
DJ's in the mix shows you better go to the record store and
COP THAT SHIT! (Oh Lord)
they're chosen
In history they're frozen
Names added to a lengthy list of those who've felt Richard's deadly kiss The chill of autumn stirs
Mind
(Elliot)
You cannot trap with no pistol (no pistol)
These niggas lame and they not in my league (my league)
Rich nigga smell like Gelato and Creed (Creed)
you need AllState
Diamonds they wearin', it's all fake
Your main bitch be choosin', that's always
Who get in the booth and go hard as I go?
Elliot
Every time I’m wake up (Okay)
Promise that I gotta get it (I get it)
When I get the cake up (Okay)
Promise that I cop a Richard (A Richard)
Neck all
(Back in the 70's, it was all about drugs..)
Tie my arm up at night between shows
Takin soda tops off of soda pops
I used to be up all night in
signed by Hov and Dame?
And ran to Jacob and made the new Jesus chains?
In Jesus' name, let the choir say
"I'm on fire, ay," that's what Richard Pryor say
watching all my money
I don't need that
If you ain't bout your money don't surround me
I be swimming in that pussy let it drown me
I tell em king me
Crown me
Good morning
(Good morning, sir can I help you?)
Uh, yes do you have a copy
Of 30 Days In The Samarkand
Desert With The Duchess of Kent
By A e j
trippin', trippin' hard, damn near fell (I was trippin', trippin')
Richard Mille in the field, I feel like Odell (mm-hmm)
Spill my lean and niggas sip, I
AK-K-K-K on
(brrt, bap, bap, bap)
Feel like you got hit by Julius Caesar
they like, "God, you on your way on? I'm like, "On my way"
You ever had so many
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