Search results for 'rich by the jacka' Page #1,353

ain't seen him but I
Heard he still a bitch
I ain't get a thang off yo plate
I ain't splitting shit
Get rich or die trying
Bitch can't get fifty cent

attention if
You're getting ripped off
These niggas ain't saying shit
And getting rich off
And y'all ain't pissed off?
They there for them sunny days
But I'm

on top of the dick and go apeshit
(Ayy, ayy)
Hit her from the back, she said, "Wayment"
(Hold on)
Hundred-twenty dollar crab, fuck crustaceans
(Rich shit)

smokin on some 3-1-0 number
Rich shit a bunch of niggas
And some foreign wheeler
Obviously, we not your average
Or your normal niggas mention Texas

swerving with a surgeon
Got 'em working the curb and money
Big money splurgin', Julius Irving
Shirt around the whip like a turban
Rich nigga lettuce, got

  (yeah, I'm gone)
Hold on, I brought my Glock in the party
(Ayy, what?)
Big dog, I'm with choppers, no Harleys
(Huh?)
This beat by who? (Sorry Jaynari, ayy,

ain't rich, lil' bitch
But I'm 'bout to be
(Okay, I'm 'bout to be)
I ain't worried 'bout shit
My mama proud of me fuck how you feelin'
I love how I'm

nigga been the same since
(Uh, huh)
Shot seven niggas with the same blick (Brr)
Me and Kutter got rich off the same strip
Back when we was going half

Kick in the door like Biggie did
Got a variation of barrels waiting
To get me rich yes I'm on the block with my
Philly lit in the 50's whip
With my

struck a Guinness pose and lost the fucking key
Drank wine in old Virginia with admirals by the beach
Til someone cracked their ankle stumbling shitfaced

That Was You and Me
Written by Sara Petite

I think about prophets and poets
And the words to Chris’ songs,
About the power of the music
And how we

mistrust, and hands held down by cuffs
 [Chorus]
 Well, I wanna know when fame and talent got spread apart (I wanna know)
 And "dumb" and "rich" became

revenge)
It's 'bout six in the mornin', by ten I'm probably gon' beat it again (beat it again)
Black truck and chauffeured today, tomorrow I'm probably

Ayy, the pistol on me, but my vision cloudy
Keep them Glicks around me
He don't know shit about me
Oh, you a rich nigga? Let it hit
Rip through

Special Ed Kiddies
iar sind White Trash wären alli gera so wia Eminem Timmys
also triff mol dr Takt, Nutta
es git Drive-bys, Driftmode bim Aspucka
iar sind

You might wanna whip me, I don't
I ain't runnin' 'round with no hoes
I don't live my life by your code
I just work my hands to the bone
I don't grind it

sittin' on the flow
So close when it's car time, eye you
Listen to the coach and it just be gone
Feelin' like a rich D-Shawn
Hottest nigga out where I'm

were vulnerable
Back when we was swipin’ EBT
Down by the corner store i was in the game
I wasn't never watchin' from the crowd
In eleventh grade
Yeah I

want it (nah)
Cuz she belong to the homie (rich homie baby)
And I’m riding in a car that ain’t out yet
Boy I’m hitting gas
And my dick where her mouth

to lose my cool
If you push these lines I'ma have to break the rules
Golden teacher didn't earn his name by chance
More than meets the eye need more than

up
By this time, I'm finally famous and a nigga rich as fuck
See her birthday 'round the corner, so I go and get some stuff
Met her at a Target when

How I get in my feelings and you leave me there?
Been by your side, you act like you don't see me here
Gave you my energy, now you don't wanna share

crazies well, you need not apply
He needs work, he's a little unsure
Not a lot, not a miracle cure
He's not rich, but he's employed
He's personality plus,

would you lie to me for?
Why was you not by your phone?
I see the change in your tone
I should just leave you alone, changin'

Changin'
Tell me why