Lay Low (Freestyle) lyrics

I told the b*tch I'm him, I'm not one of them
When I step up out the house, I got a Glock or a fin
If you not an opp wherever in the city, we gotta lock on in
The Stinc Team got a reputation for not gon' miss
Poured a four of Wockhardt, n*gga, not no Tris
I'ma go, you can't impress me with them rocked up tits
I flu flam mini mansions, I'm a knock up kid
I bust on a b*tch face and told her, "Watch my kids"
The young n*ggas see the Plug like, "I want a watch like his"
That two bands you split five ways is not no lick
I was in the county disrespectful, he sockin' on sh*t
I'm not beefin', this chip'll turn his brain to nacho dip
Your b*tch gave my chili and cheese, that's not your b*tch
She said, "Thanks for the perky meat, Ralfy, I got your gift"
I see your lil' kennel over there, thеm not no pits
I'm an exotic bulldog with a rottweiler mix
I got a big еgo, that's why I knocked your b*tch
To the left, to the left, when I'm rockin' with the Crips
Some of n*ggas act like it's wrong for keepin' it stitched lip
I told her she wasn't gettin' no di*k, she was p*ssed
I told her I can freeze time and put rocks in my wrist
I'm a real street n*gga, I'm not no pretender
I'm on his b*tch bumper, not no fender bender
He the type of n*gga f*ckin' on gender twisters
"Where you get all your moves from, Ralfy?" Mister Mister
My aunt's callin' me her favorite son 'cause I'm hittin' his sister
She was suckin' too much di*k, hope you didn't kiss her
Boy, that's a baby loaf, that is not a stiffler
If the Stincs don't run LA, then who richer?
If the Plug didn't spark the biggest fire, then who litter?
Man, n*ggas don't get half the sh*t as me, n*ggas kids to me
I ain't been the same, since a juvenile, judge sentenced me
I'm a rapper but I'll pity the fool like Mr. T
I'll have my hamburglars help me cook up instant beef
I'm an ugly n*gga, still crackin' b*tches with missing teeth
n*gga look like a small fry next to the Stincs
I'm a G.O.A.T., so all my b*tches be defendin' me
Watches came with boxin' capers, got big receipts
Every time I step in the field playin' ball, got different cleats
[?], can you send all these bums to detention, please?
Graduated from the school of hard knocks, strippin' dweebs
And yes, that n*gga on a skateboard is a peep
n*gga ain't got what I got, ain't got the watches I bought
You wanna vibe and get some perky meat from the Plug, that's gon' cost you
I'm a fashion killer, every 'fit is a lawsuit
You don't want a n*gga like me, I'm gon' dog you
Lookin' for good perky meat, you know who to call to
In there with the fin, thirty-two rounds, I'ma turn 'em to shark food
They like, "Master P in the city", b*tch, the Plug makin' boss moves
Your b*tch would hop on a log and law like a frog do
Long as she turnin' over a loaf, we all cool
That n*gga told and he a b*tch, that's cool, he ain't y'alls, though
She like, "You can put your whole di*k down my throat if you got the balls too"
Any b*tch that didn't make the cut gotta join the stalker crew
You can talk money in any language, I'll talk to you
Any n*gga hatin' on the Plug, I'ma keep ballin' on you
She like, "Out of the whole Stinc team, no one awesome as you"
Conversation with the loafy, I ain't talkin' to you
[Outro]
Nah, for real, no cap
Conversation with the loafy, I ain't talkin' to you
b*tch, don't be buttin' in my conversation when I'm talkin' to Ben Franklin, Jackson and all that
b*tch, we don't even know you
What your broke-ass say, huh?
What, no? You ain't talkin' money?
b*tch, I said it's money, you just answer, it's not [?], you do not pick up the phone
It's a loaf on the floor, see, you gon' pick it up
Yeah, eat that