Lyrics:
friction when I flex up the jaw to hit the joint
That can actually give a blood mob like Gotti
Like the body cool keep the strap up by the naughties
My homey working with brick Started with a pillow
He was cooking on the stove Working whipping elbows
Flipping big packs of herb like He out in Reno
rats on the low
All my niggas got gas on the low
That's your friend why you assing her for
Nigga why you fronting your moves
That's how a nigga get
Lincoln on a sack, with the fifty-dat
Bump my song, Get drunk, get it crunk
Country-fried, pack a blunt
Erything tight, Volume 2 off in the trunk, bump
coming back
You niggas got lost and then turned into rats
My niggas shoot shots then dip out the map
Got lawyer fees so we breaking a pack
My life to real
known by the name of old Johnny Dhu
Of all the trade's that's going,
sure begging is the best
For when a man is tired,
he can sit down and rest
He can beg
(Yeah, oh)
Let me be free let me rock
Fuck the rules fuck the cops
Smoking gas pack I'm half dead
Riding past the opps not capping
When I say I'd
the pack
No callin' in but that's facts
That nigga a snitch
Logic says that your pack full of rats
My niggas is cut like a scratch
We evil at that
Like a bit
of the ladder
Downward spiral to nothing
The smallest rat in the pack
Becoming the king of the hill
Caused by a twisted mind
No chance of recovery
No
cake in
I be getting cake then
Watching for the rats and trying not to get snakebit
It's that punting at your face shit
And if you scared, you better go
thru a hunnit in 2days
Pack get it shipped in a suitcase
Got yo bitch tryna hang like a shoelace
Interfering a get yo whole crew chased
She wanna fuck in
and tripled my figures when niggas got fronted the pack (Whole lotta cash)
Then bitches were getting attached and niggas was envying that (Them niggas was rats
I been trynna get that
Money that ain’t gift wrapped
By the Government trap
Feel like it’s a blood pact
I know what them bloods pack
I know what that
focused
Slim chance I'ma go back to killing roaches
Be quiet, you can hear the rats in the wall
Make you want to pump crack
Til you stack racks
The dope
best part is I'm clever too
Hand skills, hard work, gun play whatever duke
Ecstacy, oxy, vicodin, powder
Ari, haze, diesel, sour
Dust Juice, Lucy's,
Been stackin' my green
Don't do it for you just do it for sleep
Yea I ain't no rat
But just know I'ma fein when it come to dat cheese
Stay outta way
moves or ever will
"I'm going home
I've had enough
Call a taxi
I want my stuff
Where are my shoes?
My coat
My hat
Get me out
I smell a rat
I
And everything's fact
My bitch steady trippin'
Cause I don't text back
Can't fuck with that nigga
That nigga a rat
Drill said he was cap
And we ain't see the pack
If
got these bills that keep growing all the curves life throwing still working after closing
Raise my kids all by my lonely even tho they think I'm phony
a dutch bruh)
[Chorus]
Where I'm from niggaz down to ride or die
Niggaz don't get high off ya own supply
Where I'm from niggaz pack glocks and guns
the back went, clack clack
Money is stacked, now bust your gun, clack clack
Made 'em throw they hands up but then lay flat
Rat pack eat up, the average
Yamsayin'
I don't need no fucking intro, hold up
Yeah
Fuck all that talking, I’m back to the business
2 albums deep plus the tapes that I’m missing
aint no rat he aint never gon' tell
I seen em cap in they raps ian ring no bells
I put the pack thru dat Fargo am workin dat Wells
Ain cuffin no bitch
your still my man so
Get on the mic and do the best ya can
Oh yes, yes y'all, yes y'all, and ya don't stop
Oh yes, yes y'all, yes y'all, and ya
.jpg "The Rat Pack")
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