ADS

[Intro: Cris Dinero & Robb Bank$]
Hey Cris, fuck you!
Femto!
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Okay

[Chorus: Robb Bank$]
I don’t like you, you don’t like me
You won’t fight me, in my white tee
She say, “Pipe me,” he so icy
Fuck my sidepiece, in my Nike

[Verse 1: Robb Bank$]
[?]
Put a six in here, got my red bitch writin’ all the lyrics
She wanted [?], like a [?]
Wit’ a blue lace wig, like the bitch bang Crip out here
And I got a gun, blazer fit, tailor
Fifteen thousand, and I spent it all on a spaceship
And I got yo’ lil’ white baby, ridin’ a Mercedes
And I told that hoe other shit
What’s yo’ flavour? Flavour savour
Homegirl blasian, initiation
Let you ride it like a Harley Davidson
[?] face us some
You tell that bitch at home that you layin’ up
[?]
When I’m jumpin’ out of jail
Made a movie, made a film
Yeah, I glowed up, but this is not a drill
I press a nigga like a bad pill
King of ad-lib, really lived
I’m that story that you tell
Like stop, drop and roll
Got a Glock wit’ a pole
Have you ever seen a stripper shakin’ [?] out her clothes
Got a swiss cheese TEC, find a rat, Whac-A-Mole
And I’m runnin’ out of breath, need to smokin’ poles

[Chorus: Robb Bank$]
I don’t like you, you don’t like me
You won’t fight me, in my white tee
She say, “Pipe me,” he so icy
Fuck my sidepiece, in my Nike

[Verse 2: wifisfuneral]
Pure black in my face, bitch, I’m not sane
Smokin’ on pure gas, bitch, octane
A little devil from the mud wit’ a rotten age
Rollin’ up, rotten scene now outplayed
I was trappin’ out-back
Lil’ Zay wit’ a sack
Got him grippin’ on his teeth, pure steel, that’s a Gat’
If we really talkin’ facts
I’m the best, that’s that
Never played no chess
Only playin’ wit’ address, I’m the Bogeyman
Creepin’ through yo’ bitch bed sheets and you knew her, man
Blind hit a bitch suckin’ dick, goin’ Super Saiyan
Skimmin’ through the bands, Goddamn
How you do it, damn?
Ruger boy, rollin’ through the hood, I’m the Rugerman

[Outro: wifisfuneral & Robb Bank$]
Claim you gangsta, uh, you’s a wanksta
Nah, paper chaser, uh, you can’t be slime
You’s a prankster, nah, paper chaser, uh
You can’t be slime, uh, you’s a prankster, like
I don’t like you, you don’t like me
You won’t fight me, in my white tee

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