Red Lyte (Original) lyrics

Lyrics from Snippet
[Intro]
If you don't got a gun, n*gga, walk away from me
And the Glock finna take out his guts, I ain't tuckin' his tummy
b*tch, you not my twizzy, who told you we buddies?
I just caught that boy lackin' and now my jit bloody
Gave her di*k one time, now she tell me she love me
(Dylvinci got the code)

[Verse 1]
He want the static, he not 'bout that action
I pull out the choppa, catch him at the red light
b*tch think he cappin', I hit then I pass it
I f*cked on his mama and now it's his bedtime
I be your stepdad, you cannot flex that
di*k hard on the bed, your mom erect that
Rappin' on n*ggas head, that's what I'm best at
Slide with the pole like I'm finna elect somebody
Your shawty on me, n*gga, don't test my buddy
Heard that n*gga lookin' for me, told the b*tch, "Come find me"

…

[Verse 2]
Yeah, uh, yeah, uh (yeah)
Yeah, uh, yeah, uh (yeah)
Yeah, uh, yeah, uh, yeah, uh (yeah)
She not tryna f*ck, I'm kickin' that b*tch out
Glock in my hand, don't make me pull that b*tch out
Asian lil' b*tch told me, "Pull that di*k out"
He try to test me, got that n*gga glicked down
I laugh to the bank, n*gga, hahaha
If a n*gga test me, it go, "Gra-da-da-da"
In the f*ckin' 'Rari and I'm droppin' the top
And I'm countin' money while she suckin' my c*ck
I got hella b*tches so I'm f*ckin' a lot
I do not give a damn, I say, "f*ck it" a lot
And lil' b*tch, you a virgin
You just be cappin' and sh*t, n*gga, you don't be f*ckin' no thots
Why these n*ggas on di*k? Uh-huh
When I pull that b*tch out, she gon' give me that clit, uh-huh
And I'm givin' them flint, uh-huh (Okay)
And I caught that boy lackin', I slide with the Glock and I empty the clip, uh-huh
And I'm sorry, lil' b*tch, I cannot keep you in if you not givin' lip, uh-huh
And I'm shoppin' at Saks, but that's not the problem, b*tch, I got a whole lotta cash
I'ma f*ck on that b*tch from the motherf*ckin' back 'cause that b*tch got a whole lot of ass
I'ma hop in the goddamn SRT, got a whole lotta dash
n*gga, you is a lil' b*tch, I end a n*gga life with this stick
That Glock get a bite of your lip
n*gga, ain't nobody comparin' to Chris
Lean in my p*ss, I swear that these f*ck n*ggas makin' me sick
Like sick to my stomach, b*tch, I need to sh*t
And they say, "Who is Chris?" b*tch, I be the sh*t
I'm way too cold, don't preheat me, b*tch
She a goddamn thot, might delete the b*tch
I just might leave the b*tch
Chris so goddamn tight, n*gga, you gotta see this sh*t
Breathin' it, pushin' the motherf*ckin' Lamborghini, my keys in it
I got a Glock and another f*ckin' choppa, yeah, that sh*t really be beamin', b*tch
Made that boy fall like autumn (Oh, like TwinUzis?)
No, n*gga, the season, b*tch
I put the di*k in, I pulled the di*k out, I just might have to tease the b*tch
Yeah, oh yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Oh yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Oh yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Oh yeah
Hit from the back, n*gga, I said, "Oh yeah"
Catch the pus*y, one hand, Odell
Lick on the pus*y, I pray that it don't smell
b*tch, I'm the sh*t, but I think we can both tell
[Outro]
b*tch ass n*gga
I'm [?] on this b*tch
Yvngxchris in this b*tch, hold up
Yvngxchris in this b*tch, hold up