Square Biz lyrics

[Intro: RMC Mike]
Every day to feed twelve kids
Mm, mm, mm, mm
Hey, hey, b*tch (Smokey tryna smoke a n*gga)
Look, look, hey
I'm on the phone with the plug, talking square biz
Yeah, ayy
Make enough money, mm, make twelve, alright
It’s like this, look, ayy

[Verse 1: RMC Mike]
I'm on the phone with the plug, talking square biz
Make enough money every day to feed twelve kids
I usually don't ride with the dope, but sh*t, this sale big
Baby got a big pus*y on her, I just fell in
Pick him off with a .50 Cal, this b*tch a sniper
Brodie in the cell killing sh*t ’cause hе a lifer
Hit the road with a half a slab rapped in diapеrs
Every time I'm popping out, lit like a lighter

[Verse 2: 3200 Tre]
Hm, I used to feel left out, but I wasn't turnt enough
Hm, money ain't gon' change your life until you earn enough
Hm, the first time I tried to cook, a n*gga burnt it up
Hm, you ain't never took a loss, you can't learn from nothing
Hm, money is not everything, you can't change me
Hm, tell me who the f*ck it is, if it ain’t me
Hm, I don’t hear the sh*t you saying, so I can't see
Hm, I live my life in 4K, you still in HD
[Verse 3: AllStar JR]
Police in my neighborhood, hate I fleed twice
Get off the field, crash a n*gga like Rashee Rice
She wanna be my b*tch, I’ma give her three nights
These 'bows free, n*gga, I don't know no weed price
Looking at his phone, n*gga finna lie
FN on a n*gga mean a n*gga finna die
Chocolate face presi' looking like some chilly fries
I ain’t even up this .50, b*tch, I'm being civilized

[Verse 4: RMC Mike]
b*tch pus*y blew out, I done hit her 50 times
And she know that I'm the truth, but I lied 50 times
Bring it to your motherf*cking door, Jimmy Johns
Laid back, but I can get this sh*t popping anytime
Hey, and they'll never get a trace, this a ghost Glock
Hit a b*tch, then cut her off, leave the ho blocked
Walk in, cameras everywhere, this a dope spot
Rumor is doggy fell off, sh*t, I hope not

[Verse 5: 3200 Tre & Allstar JR]
Hm, I hope you don't think I will 'cause I won't stop
Hm, I hate when n*ggas ask for prices and they don't cop
Hm, you can't slide in my hood, I got the road blocked
Hm, I gotta touch it, you can't tell me that the stove hot
Hm, I don't rap like no n*gga, I got my own style
Hm, I used to have to pick sh*t up , it's gettin' drove now
Hm, my face card might be good for some 'bows now
I might be him, but I'd rather chill and keep a low profile (Ayy)
[Verse 6: AllStar JR]
He got a real diamond link, but the piece fake
n*ggas spraying all the 'bows, hate the weed game
I ball hard, dope stretching like it's pregame
I was sleep, selling LB's in my PJ's
I put a million blue pills on the freeway
Play the opps, I put ten on the DJ
n*ggas going bankrupt, that don't seem safe
She wanna f*ck me, get up out that freak face
Baglife