What Up RJ lyrics

[Intro: Rio Da Yung OG & RMC Mike]
(Ooh, RJ)
(Enrgy made this one)
What up, RJ?
Enrgy, Ghetto Boyz sh*t (b*tch)
What up, Mike?
Let's show these n*ggas how we do it
(RJ always trippin', man, RJ always trippin', man)
RJ always trippin'

[Verse 1: RMC Mike]
Hey, what up, RJ?
Unc' mixed the soft with the hard and made a parfait
Sippin' on some red while gettin' head by the fireplace
My lil' n*gga ran off with an egg, we in a car chase
Militant with this AR pistol, I'll drop a fly
Me and Rio drunk two pints of red, feel like I'm 'bout to die
You n*ggas drinkin' carbonated lean, that sh*t oxidized
I picked a pint of Act' over my b*tch, that's a compromise

[Verse 2: Rio Da Young OG]
Withdrawin' on drank and OxyContin, I don't feel alive
My b*tch gon' call my phone in a minute, I think I'm 'bout to lie
n*gga said I can't f*ck his b*tch, I think I'm 'bout to try
I just spilled a deuce of Wock', I think I'm 'bout to cry
Almost asked Mike is he strapped? That's a dumb question
She asked me was I strapped after I nutted? That's a dumb question
Preferably, I hope all y'all die with y'all bum asses
But don't mind what I just said, that's just a suggestion
[Verse 3: RMC Mike]
White buffs with the pointers in 'em cost me seven racks
Cuz dropped two grams in the pot and brought eleven back
I was told f*ckin' off them Percs burn belly fat
I need two pair of Air Force 1's, I'm bringin' Nelly back
Psych, I need all the J's
A n*gga passed me a blunt of glue and he caught the fade
How the f*ck we make twenty-five racks and we off today?
My doctor pulled up on me unexpected and brought some drank

[Verse 4: Rio Da Yung OG]
I'm tired of drivin' foreign sh*t, I might walk today
b*tch, I ain't had no codeine, I can't talk today
Yesterday, we played a condo, we in the loft today
Thirty racks on me, I sold a half a brick of soft today
Me, Mike, and Louie need to be on the wall of fame
B told on C, you need to be on the wall of shame
I'll politely shoot you in your head twice and walk away
Can't no n*gga in Flint f*ck with me if we talking pape'

[Verse 5: RMC Mike]
Sandpaper grip on my Glock, walk you down with ease
Free my n*gga C, real hustler, he was housin' fiends
I couldn't even say my ABCs and could pronounce lean
Eleven thousand blues on the floor, I gotta count these
Damn, now that's some stupid sh*t
The Hellcat is basic, boy, you gotta drop coupe the sh*t
Knock a n*gga out, then slice his neck with a crucifix
Takin' pictures f*ckin' on your b*tch, I got proof of it
[Verse 6: Rio Da Yung OG]
Why you think Baby Ghost quick to shoot? I taught him that
The rap scene died in 810, I brought it back
Them Perc-30s tried to beat my ass, I fought 'em back
b*tch, I got a hundred racks on me, stop talkin' back
Take a b*tch on vacation to Cali, buy her all the bags
She ain't let me f*ck, took them b*tches back, now she walkin' back
b*tch called me ninety-nine times, I ain't call her back
I think I fell in love with a rat, let me fall back

[Verse 7: RMC Mike]
Second hardest of the Ghetto Boyz, n*gga, free P
A n*gga try to come to Flint and rap, he gotta see me
The tips of my bullets same color as some kiwi
Been sh*ttin' for two years straight, it's time for a three-peat
Backwood filled with exotic, this one to the face
Runnin' out of room for my kicks, I need a bigger place
I upped thirty racks on my b*tch, she ain't have sh*t to say
Cuttin' dope in my mama kitchen, gotta ditch the plate

[Verse 8: Rio Da Yung OG]
This a regular Sprite, drop a deuce of Act', now it's exotic
Beat a b*tch ass, then f*ck her raw, I'm mister toxic
I got some sh*t in my pocket cover seven years of college
Told my young b*tch I don't eat pus*y I'm on a diet
Passin' Percs out, I got the whole gang high, I'm the pilot
b*tch, you can't drive the boat, but you can ride it
Nine 30s in my system, I think I'm dyin'
If you find a Perc' stronger than a blue, I wanna try it