Runtz Pack lyrics

[Verse 1: Slimmy B]
n*gga
When I touch down in your city have that bag right
Bro just hit a sucka with that K, that was last night
Glock 23, Gen 4 with that flashlight
OG always told me, when I bust hold that strap tight
Million dollar n*gga round this b*tch, I ain't average
Got some million dollar n*ggas round me but they ain't rappin'
Six hundred for a zip ask them guys, we ain't cappin'
b*tch I'm tryna ball in every way like Bo Jackson (Lil' n*gga)
Yeah I love that Benz, but that Hellcat the fastest
Yeah that b*tch cute, but my main she the baddest
Four Five with that hit stick, but this ain't Madden
Drop thirty, grab another stick and keep blastin'
Been thugin' since a youngin', boy this sh*t ain't new to me
di*k turned a b*tch crazy, she like, "What you do to me?"
In the trenches wit' the apes, so my n*ggas moving mean
f*ck suckas, rip the thugs, and forever twos and threes (n*gga)

[Verse 2: DaBoii]
This sh*t going for the high now, you can't get this sh*t for free
Baby like she got a baller but ain't getting sh*t from me
Yesterday I got so high thought I was sitting from a tree
Who woulda thought this b*tch could rap, she got to spittin' on the D
Dreams of being at the top but yeah I know it's gon' take time
I see them boys took your belongings I won't let them boys take mine
And my brother brought his mask, I'm hoodie'd up like I'm Trayvon
I know that sh*t be sounding good but you can't trust them, they be lyin'
f*ck every one of the opps, can't wait to drop 'em all
Me and brodie bro just matched a four, I still ain't nodding off
Your b*tch don't even neck you, when I swooped I had her lockin' jaw
And we can put the hands down, let's get some shots involved
Bottle wars up in the club you know them shots involved
Hell no I ain't funkin' wit' no rats, y'all getting cops involved
I peeped the knife behind my back, I wasn't shocked at all
Like I'm traveling with this b*tch, no I won't drop the ball
When that Glock got to spittin' n*ggas thought it was a AR
I can make his wifey drop her drawls just off the faith card
You can spit a hundred, I'll still rip 'em off for eight bars
b*tch I'm like Kobe in this booth, I'm who they can't guard
And these baggies going for the low so come and cop you one
Pray I'm not a victim, dang I'm sick, I damn near shot me one
Your pops is not a gangsta, he a rat, you like Tekashi son
She don't want a perky or a xan she want a oxy, huh?
[Verse 3: Moneybagz Buzz]
Dope fiend ass b*tch
Hey, bought the coupe then I crashed it
Made 30k the next day it's in the past tense
As for them broke n*ggas askin'
Six hundred dollars in my cup, I can't pass it
Hey, Neiman Marcus in to fashion
I'm a boss you lil' n*ggas peasants, different classes
Seventeen, had thirty in my mattress
I done lost it all on the road taking chances
Ayy, f*ck the virus, start shooting he get close to me
Ain't want the b*tch, told Jody get the ho for me
It's crazy how everybody in my phone have a forty piece
Knowing if I went broke they wouldn't notice me
Ayy, they send the Buzzlato out of town for the forty-three
He only uppin' five bands and that's broke to me
Glock 9, Gen 5, It's a 43
Smoke a n*gga like a Runtz pack, he's a joke to me (b*tch)