Eat Wit Me

[Intro: RMC Mike]
Yeah, bitch
Hah

[Verse 1: RMC Mike]
Hey, Kel-Tec P50 on me, how I'm ridin'
Take his Striker, sell it for the high, reset the mileage
Hey, teach a nigga how to spice talk, I'm a college
Show my dick to the secretary, now she smilin'
I wanna fuck you and your friend, I'm just honest
Rolls-Royce top down, speedin' down on Collins
You ever counted out a fifty ball while you drivin'?
Started from the bottom, took off, now I'm the pilot
Ghetto Boyz shit, we can't be stopped
I sold Unc' some baby milk, it can't be dropped
I fucked my ex-bitch mama, shе hate me now
I been done rappin' for free, niggas pay mе now
Hey, Quis, I think this bitch starin' right in our direction
I been fell in love with rap, but now it's my profession
I cannot rap with you for free, boy, that's out the question
Caught him sneak-dissin' on the team, sent him up to heaven
Shit, I can get you what you need for the right ticket
I'm in the booth by myself, just a pint with me
Sick of all the cap rap, I'm really puttin' my life in it
Every time a body drop in my hood, they say, "Mike did it"

[Verse 2: Big Quis]
We sellin' birds
If the police pull me over in this 'Vette, this pistol hers
I done done the unbelievable, now people call me [?][1:05]
Bought another chain and walked like George Jefferson out the jeweler
We gon' ball forever
Told my best friend to hold his Patek up
Wifey mad I cheated, she was famous, boo, I had to fuck
Made my circle small, the niggas really thought I needed them
Got these niggas fooled, I'm sellin' birds, they think that I'm a pimp
Slide in hoes' dm, this blue check work, my percentage high
His broke ass in the way, let's take a vote, I say this nigga die
My side bitch twenty-two, she can't believe she fucked a legend
When I'm bored as hell, I drive my foreign up and down the 7
I ain't tryna wife you up, you only gettin' penis, mama
If you claimin' you a killer, why you playin'? It's time to cha-cha
Had to cut my homie off, he a ho, he got his chain took
Ain't gon' say no names, I sold a famous rapper a pair of fake buffs
I don't give these hoes shit, even if I got it, I don't got it
We ain't speakin' on no murders, weed 'em out, forget about it
Puttin' the 'stendo on that Benz, why you drivin' that 550?
Gotta do this on my own since no labels wanna eat with me
Everything costs