Havin Fun

[Intro: RMC Mike]
(It's a Wayne beat)
Bitch
Yeah

[Verse 1: RMC Mike]
The date on my bottle say '09
The date on my bottle say '09, this my old juice
My brother Ri' just spent seventy racks on an old-school
Nigga really think he sippin' Act', but it's close to
Bitch, this a stick-up, nigga, don't move
Five-seveN rippin' through his stomach like soul food
Cut into a bitch like, "Let me fuck," yeah, I'm so rude
Seen my opp, shot the car quick and hit the wrong dude
Damn, I should've wore my Cartiers
Told bro I need a deuce of Wock', this nigga found me eight
Damn, I wanna fuck this bitch bad, she got a godly shape
Pull up on your block with six Dracs and make Rodney skate
Pint of Wock' just callеd my phone, I'm finna race to it
Drop an eight, pop two Pеrcocets, and make great music
Lou watch cost so fuckin' much, he got a safe to it
It's still straight drop, but this batch got some grade to it

[Verse 2: Rio Da Yung OG]
I was finna hit the bitch, but her pussy had a stank to it
I just paid two thousand for an eight of fluid
I make songs for inmates, I want niggas to get shanked to it
Eight of red in a small pop look like brake fluid
I done shot so many guns, bro, I hate shootin'
If you really caught me lackin', why you ain't shoot me?
Advance check from the record label, I get paid Tuesday
I am not finna chase your car down, bro, I ain't Scooter
But I'll let these K bullets run behind you
If you can still get a pint of Actavis, I wanna find you
Four chains on right now, I might blind you
And I been shit talkin' for eighteen months, must I remind you?
Yeah, he probably got more chains than me, but he signed too
Ghetto Boy piece on the way, we had to buy two
Shit, if I got hit with a K up close, I'd cry too
Shit, you better thank God they ain't die you
I'm trippin', I mean kill you
You be cappin' in them songs, I don't feel you
Nigga, take the jewelry off, let us see the—
Take the jewelry off, let us see the real you
Sprayed a nigga crib ten years ago and we still cool
That is not white gold, that's stainless steel, dude
Yeah, yeah, we know the real
Three hundred racks off DistroKid, I don't want a deal
I just found an eight of clean Wock', now I want a pill
Damn, we just drunk that whole eight, now I want a seal
The opps sick, how corona feel?
L coupe baby blue box, Forgiato steering wheel
Quarter-million-dollar nigga, I'll kill you still
If you buy more than five 'bows, I'll give a deal
Beat a bitch back in hard off a little pill
Alright, I got enough chains on, I'm finna get a grill