Jump Rope lyrics

[Chorus: Chris King]
Don't come around with no blick, [?] clutch yourself
c*cky ass n*gga, man, that b*tch better love herself
Baring arms to the point I could hug myself
Miss Goody Two Shoes come around and get f*cked herself
I'm the plug, b*tch, I know where it's at
Bail for the cops, the blower in tact
Bail in the foreign, f*ck around and get lost
Tryna jump rope [?] Nemans like Rick Ross

[Verse 1: Chris King]
When there's so much money in your pocket, it look like [?] passes
Treat every minute valuable, you can't get your time back
Gotta check the energy, we tell a joke and get a dry laugh
Two pares of [?] in the hoodie, that sh*t like 5 racks
[?] is where I shop at
But you can die for white T's, get in a 5 pack
Or I could die for no reason, over my flag
sh*t, but I got drive, f*ck around, I need a low jack
Stars in the ceiling, let the rockets fly
Going ghost in the Ghost, even the driver hide
Catch a body, I flip it, then I pile drive
When it's up, get you f*cked, it's a myle high
Now it's cold as Detroit, a 7 myle drive
Heat it up, f*ck it up, do it one more time
I heat it up, f*ck it up, do it one more time
I heat it up, f*ck it up, do it one more time
[Chorus: Chris King]
Don't come around with no blick, [?] clutch yourself
c*cky ass n*gga, man, that b*tch better love herself
Baring arms to the point I could hug myself
Miss Goody Two Shoes come around and get f*cked herself
I'm the plug, b*tch, I know where it's at
Bail for the cops, the blower in tact
Bail in the foreign, f*ck around and get lost
Tryna jump rope [?] Nemans like Rick Ross

[Verse 2: RJmrLA]
[?] 1000 [?]
Turn your mans to a runner, like a new balance
Free Slime, free Gunna, til it go backwards
You outa line, you need straightening, we shoot [?]
Shoot backwards
We shoot at ya
Tell that b*tch I got free bundles, she gon' [?]
She need a new mattress
Nothing set in stone, less you signed your name
You can drown in that water, tryna find your way
[?] took my brain, 2000's helped
2010's tryna spin, rather drive myself
I f*cked [?] find my belt
I jumped 'bout 30 n*ggas [?] fly in Hell
[?]
Still having nightmares 'bout the trap, like a house rat
Go through my old contacts, and had a flashback
I had that b*tch a while back, you can have that
What you mad at?
[Chorus: Chris King]
Don't come around with no blick, [?] clutch yourself
c*cky ass n*gga, man, that b*tch better love herself
Baring arms to the point I could hug myself
Miss Goody Two Shoes come around and get f*cked herself
I'm the plug, b*tch, I know where it's at
Bail for the cops, the blower in tact
Bail in the foreign, f*ck around and get lost
Tryna jump rope [?] Nemans like Rick Ross