Script Talk 4 lyrics

[Intro: RMC Mike]
(f*ck the fire, we got grease)
b*tch
(His name's Pablo)

[Verse 1: RMC Mike]
Glock 40 with a drum in it, I bet I drop sh*t
Break my sh*t down in one minute, I'm a Glock smith
I need a Perc' bad, somebody please call Bob Smith
Seen Freaky make a hundred off them dice, he got an odd wrist
Bro got enough dog on him to make five pits
Throw his body in the lake for some bait, he a live fish
I can't lie, man, this b*tch pus*y stank, you can't hide fish
Made my fiend pay eleven hundred for five temps
Ten milli', hollow heads in it, you won't survive this
Girly said she got Meg knees, I made her ride di*k
Sold dog eleven lines of Wock', I left five hit
I need a plug on them glass pints, somebody find Chris
Jump fresh as hell, then hop on a plane, I'ma fly rich
Thermal scope on my AR, it got a find switch
On my way to go perform in the D, we got like nine sticks
On the internet droppin' eight lines, this a live mix

[Interlude: RLSG BSmith]
Yeah, Perkies, ayy
[Verse 2: RLSG BSmith]
Every time you see me, guarantee I got my gun on me
I can't drink a pop unless it got a lil' four on it
All I drink is Wock', if you got Trish, then I don't want it
I be flexin' hard, flashin' money, I love showboatin'
She gave that pus*y up for a Perc', she was ho-hoein'
You can get some thirties, but you gotta pay the high for 'em
I made more money at the gas station than the store owner
I really keep a whole lot of pills, I'm the Perky man
I can up the price to sixty dollars and they still gon' pay it
I be havin' problems stashin' money, y'all wouldn't understand
I drove to Atlanta with hundred pints in a minivan
If a n*gga think he gon' rob me, he a silly man
I be rockin' Amiris, you wear Jordan Craigs from City, man
I don't pay attention to the hate, I just want the bands
n*gga, how the f*ck is you broke? You a grown man

[Interlude: Rio Da Yung OG]
Grown-ass, bum-ass n*gga
f*ck is you broke?
How the f*ck is you broke, my n*gga?
Alright

[Verse 3: Rio Da Yung OG]
My Glock got expensive bullets in it, so it won't jam
Eight in a one-liter, thicker than toejam
Switch on the blick, when I shoot it, I slow dance
Ridin' 'round with a hundred-twenty racks, I'm a grown man
Trickin' off, just got some slow head from a blowhead
Walked in Upto crib with eighty racks in a store bag
Plug say he got a hundred 'bows, I want the whole bag
Just went in Somerset and walked out with twenty-four bags
Burberry, Gucci, Louis, and I went to Neiman Marcus
Ask Elise about me, I treat Saks Fifth like Target
We shut the party down soon as they started it
Four PLRs to turn his car to a garbage can