Categoria: R

Real Boston Richey – Bubba Man ( Lyrics Lyrics) Letra RealBostonRicheyVEVO Real Boston Richey – Bubba Man ( Lyrics Lyrics)

Taliban
You know me
Uh, uh, uh, uh

Can’t say I’m the man, bitch, I’m the Bubba man
I don’t love a bitch, I only got love for the Chinaman
Emilio Pucci scarf wrapped ‘round my head just like a Taliban
I told my youngin I’ma keep his pockets full, just keep that cutter sprayin’
I told that bitch, “This shit here on the floor, I ain’t your other man
And your pussy good, but I’ma keep on cheatin’, you don’t understand
All these choices that I got, why the fuck I’ma be your man?
You don’t understand, bitch, I’ma pay to fuck on you and your friend”
I keep on buyin’ these whips, Geo say, “You need to go buy some land”
I was just trappin’ Bubba, none of this rappin’ shit wasn’t even my plans
Posted up in the dugout, out there trappin’ nicks of weed and sand
I got that type of money that make a faithful bitch go leave her man
I got that type of money, I fuck her raw, she want me to leave it in
She wouldn’t get an abortion, had to shoot a bitch a couple grand
I treat my bitches right, fuck ‘em good and then I tuck ‘em in
I don’t gotta drop a song again, I’m still gettin’ them Bubbas in

Huh, the Bubba man, bitch, I’m the Bubba man
I don’t gotta make a song again, I’m gettin’ them Bubbas in
Huh, the Bubba man, nigga, I’m the Bubba man
I don’t love a bitch, but I got love for the Chinaman
Bubba man, bitch, I’m the Bubba man
I can’t hang with shooters, rather go hang with my Bubba friends
Bubba man, bitch, I’m the Bubba man
I could beat your ticket, you just gotta tell me what you payin’

I need a ‘vert, the sun was comin’ in
If you trappin’ Bubba and you from Florida, then you bumpin’ this
Hit that dope, I whip up Fiji water, the fiends love this shit
Pay my young nigga to swing that cutter, I got handymen
I be on that pimpin’ shit ‘cause, baby, I’m a ladies’ man
Niggas can’t even afford to buy a Benz, how you gon’ spin a bin?
They do what I say so, Boston, he that fuckin’ man
Huh, give me Peso, bitch, I need a hundred bands

Huh, the Bubba man, bitch, I’m the Bubba man
I don’t gotta make a song again, I’m gettin’ them Bubbas in
Huh, the Bubba man, nigga, I’m the Bubba man
I don’t love a bitch, but I got love for the Chinaman
Bubba man, bitch, I’m the Bubba man
I can’t hang with shooters, rather go hang with my Bubba friends
Bubba man, bitch, I’m the Bubba man
I could beat your ticket, you just gotta tell me what you payin’

Uh, I don’t hang with shooters, nigga, I’d rather hang with my Bubba friends

Lyrics, Letras, Paroles, Deutsche, Letras, Testi,Тексты, Texty, Norske, Текстови, Versuri, Persian, Liricí, Lirik, Nederlandse, Tagalog

Real Boston Richey – Not to Mention ( Lyrics ) Letra RealBostonRicheyVEVO Real Boston Richey – Not to Mention ( Lyrics )
Intro
Huh, uh
Dun, dun, uh
Bum, uh, uh, uh, uh
(Section 8 just straight cooked this motherfucker up)
Yeah, uh
Bum, uh, huh
Bum, bum, huh
Bum, bum, uh
Ayy, ayy
Verse 1
Niggas in competition, mm, but I know niggas trippin’
I spent three hundred K on my pendant, two hundred K on what I’m whippin’
And, oh yeah, not to mention, hella bread up on my bitches
You know who did them killings, everybody over here got—
Slap a bitch if she don’t listen, wake up, bitch, go clean my dishes
I’m too turnt to rock them Dickies, turnt nigga, gon’ rock Givenchy
Bitch, I’m too turnt for them kisses, save it for that nigga that’s with you
Bitch, lil’ Boston’ll never hit you, I’m that nigga that’ll come and get you
When your nigga kick you out, take you back up to my spot
Penthouse, top floor, this shit your nigga ain’t even got
Bеfore I was trappin’ Hubba Bubba, me and Ray was hittin’ the pot
Dirt road, trappin’ hard, tryna run up mе a knot
I could do what I want, hit the jeweler and buy me a bitch a tennis
I go do what they don’t, fuck a bitch, then buy the bitch a pendant
Buy some shit they won’t, niggas hatin’, but I keep on shittin’
I ain’t never miss no day in the trap, nigga, I got perfect attendance
Mm, trap out the store, lil’ nigga, we winnin’
Swingin’ that pole, lil’ nigga, I’m with it
Give me them ‘bows and I’ma go gon’ get it
Niggas be hoes, they count fetti
You ain’t my bro, nigga, I ain’t friendly
Where the coat? Nigga, I’ma hit it
Fuck that bitch until I’m finished
I can blow this shit in a minute
Chorus
I can blow this shit, I can blow this shit in a minute
Uh, I can blow this shit, nigga, I can buy a bitch a tennis
I can blow this shit, nigga, I can blow this shit in a minute
I can blow this shit, I can go and buy a bitch some titties

Verse 2
I can blow it like I made the dollar bill myself
I got my niggas with me, I ain’t run this shit all by myself
It costs to drip like this, lil’ nigga, you better watch your step
If you ain’t from the Southside, fuck nigga, I don’t need your help
The bitch ain’t movin’ right, it’s only right the bitch get left
Take my pain out on a bitch, she gotta feel all what I felt
If a bitch fuck on my brothers, that’s some shit I can’t accept
But a bitch fuck on another nigga, that’s somethin’ I can’t accept
Check me out up in the city, Boston Richey havin’ rep’
Bitch, I’m trappin’ everything, but I’m scared to trap that meth
All these brooms we got over here, nigga play, you gettin’ swept
Bitch, don’t talk to Boston Richey, you got dick up on your breath

Chorus
I can blow this shit, I can blow this shit in a minute
Uh, I can blow this shit, nigga, I can buy a bitch a tennis
I can blow this shit, nigga, I can blow this shit in a minute
I can blow this shit, I can go and buy a bitch some titties
Lyrics, Letras, Paroles, Deutsche, Letras, Testi,Тексты, Texty, Norske, Текстови, Versuri, Persian, Liricí, Lirik, Nederlandse, Tagalog

Real Boston Richey – Cheap ( Lyrics ) Letra RealBostonRicheyVEVO Real Boston Richey – Cheap ( Lyrics )
(Andree, run it up)
Securus cheap, how the fuck you ain’t sent your doggy nothin’?
Them Bubbas cheap, how the fuck you ain’t out here trappin’ nothin’?
Them cutters cheap, how the fuck you ain’t out here clappin’ nothin’?
Pull up another beat, every time I drop a song, I’m gettin’ money
You ain’t gon’ clap shit, why the fuck you niggas muggin’?
I live my life the right way, out here thuggin’ and I’m druggin’
Patek gon’ shine the right way, all rose, shit bustin’
She offered to give me backrubs, shit, I know she want somethin’
I cheated a couple months, I wake up, the bitch still fussin’
After we fuck, still got my jewelry on, the bitch might steal somethin’
Shit ‘bout over with like, bitch, you need to drop you a tear or somethin’
Stand right over shit, every time they play, I’m ready to kill me somethin’
All these scars up on my body, nigga, I still don’t feel nothin’
Crash dummy go kamikaze ‘cause niggas act like they don’t feel guns
I just keep my shit discrete, how your daddy should’ve done
Told lil’ cuh to push the P, he gotta go do a pill run
Told lil’ cuh, “Go push the P,” but I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout a player side
Black truck the hoes and go duck off and let the chauffer drive
I only rock with shooters, stay protected, that’s how I play and slide
Might smack the shit out a nigga if he playin’ ‘cause we don’t play with fire

Don’t treat me like no tutor, y’all fuck niggas’ ass be babified
She rode the dick so good, you would think this bitch right here was made to ride
Opps be dyin’ so fast, you would think these niggas got paid to die
Get off bags so fast, shit, I know why niggas hate the guys
Keep it real with me, in all honesty, shit, I hate to lie
Say they don’t fuck with me, but in the truth, shit, niggas can’t wait to ride
These young niggas be weak, that’s why I hang out with the older guys
Bitch asked, would I cheat? Shit, the truth, bitch, I can’t decide
Securus cheap, how the fuck you ain’t sent your doggy nothin’?
Them Bubbas cheap, how the fuck you ain’t out here trappin’ nothin’?
Them cutters cheap, how the fuck you ain’t out here clappin’ nothin’?
Pull up another beat, every time I drop a song, I’m gettin’ money
You ain’t gon’ clap shit, why the fuck you niggas muggin’?
I live my life the right way, out here thuggin’ and I’m druggin’
Patek gon’ shine the right way, all rose, shit bustin’
She offered to give me backrubs, shit, I know she want somethin’
If I can’t sit my dog down and tell him the truth, I can’t hang around him
Uh, whatever it come to, I’ll go load up and go bang ‘bout him
Just clap, when I see that nigga, knock the fuckin’ fame out him
Ever since I lost my cousin, it ain’t been the same without him
Uh, uh, it ain’t been the same
Get a million cash, nigga, I still wouldn’t even change
Nigga, I still won’t change the game
Nigga, I still won’t change for fame
Still fuck on my hoes the same
Won’t get mad when I’m to blame
Lyrics, Letras, Paroles, Deutsche, Letras, Testi,Тексты, Texty, Norske, Текстови, Versuri, Persian, Liricí, Lirik, Nederlandse, Tagalog

Real Boston Richey – Battery Pack ( Lyrics ) Letra RealBostonRicheyVEVO Real Boston Richey – Battery Pack ( Lyrics Lyrics)
Intro
Woah
Shh, woah
Uh, woah
Uh, yeah
Woah, woah
Uh, uh
Yeah

Chorus
Trick me a bitch just like Cat in the Hat
Jump out the whip with the strap in the bag
Charged up like I got a battery pack
Play with your life, put a pole on your ass
Play with that life, send some shots and some more
Switch out the tag ‘cause that boy there done trolled
Switch out the tag ‘cause that boy there done told
Fuckin’ on your friend, I’m like, “How did you know?”
If rap don’t work, put the trap in a choke
But this shit gon’ work, I already know
Clean a nigga up, used to serve him some soap
Mama was mad, I was servin’ the dope
Mama triеd to tell me, “Keep prayin’, keep hope”
Tryna tеll me, “Gotta go to sleep,” he woke
Who gon’ pay the bills when they sayin’ we owe?
I gotta hit the block, gotta sell O’s

I don’t wanna go back to servin’, uh, I don’t wanna go back to public housing
World in my hands ‘cause this shit is ours
Fuckin’ his bitch, nigga, that’s ours
Fuckin’ my bitch, that lil’ bitch is ours
You can’t fuck my ho, I just be clownin’
I got them M’s, go ask my accountant
Stickin’ it in, woo, I’m drownin’
Fuck her for ten minutes, can’t do an hour
Fuck both my bitches and don’t take a shower
It’s that time of month, so we fuck on the towel
First you get money and then get the power
Fuck on her good, her lil’ body start sproutin’
You got them hoes, it’s like fifty and counting
Ain’t hit my peak, but I’m top of the mountain
Way too big, make the hoes reroute it
The most I’ma pay for some pussy is a thousand
You lost your ho, you know I found her
She keep talkin’ back, you know I’ma ground her
I’m trappin’ that fish, ain’t talkin’ flounder
Beat a nigga ass like Ronda Rousey
Whoop a nigga ass like Roy Jones Jr
Play with them youngins, quick, them youngins gon’ do you
Lose that nigga, baby girl, he a loser

Chorus
Trick me a bitch just like Cat in the Hat
Jump out the whip with the strap in the bag
Charged up like I got a battery pack
Play with your life, put a pole on your ass
Play with that life, send some shots and some more
Switch out the tag ‘cause that boy there done trolled
Switch out the tag ‘cause that boy there done told
Fuckin’ on your friend, I’m like, “How did you know?”
If rap don’t work, put the trap in a choke
But this shit gon’ work, I already know
Clean a nigga up, used to serve him some soap
Mama was mad, I was servin’ the dope
Mama tried to tell me, “Keep prayin’, keep hope”
Tryna tell me, “Gotta go to sleep,” he woke
Who gon’ pay the bills when they sayin’ we owe?
I gotta hit the block, gotta sell O’s
Lyrics, Letras, Paroles, Deutsche, Letras, Testi,Тексты, Texty, Norske, Текстови, Versuri, Persian, Liricí, Lirik, Nederlandse, Tagalog

Real Boston Richey – Goin’ Back Home ( Lyrics ) Letra RealBostonRicheyVEVO Real Boston Richey – Goin’ Back Home ( Lyrics )
Intro
Huh, uh, I got drip— uh, uh
I got drip fare, uh
(Section 8 just straight cooked this motherfucker up)
I got brick fare
I got drip fare, uh
I got brick fare
Pay for a bitch hair
Uh-uh

Chorus
I’m tired of fuckin’ these hoes, it’s time to go back home
I’m trappin’ up off the phone, I’m tired of swingin’ them O’s
I’m tired of swingin’ the pole, bitch, fuck the famous hoes
They act like they don’t know me and what the fuck I’m famous for

Post-Chorus
I’m famous for trappin’ the Bubba, uh, I’m famous for swingin’ the cutter
I pull up and finger-fuck her, might text her, but never fuck her
A robber from out the city, I ran it up, I was trappin’ Bubba
Robbin’ half of the city, Boston always stayin’ in trouble

Verse 1
That blicky got thе hiccups and when I blow it, that bitch gon’ stutter
Ain’t shit, nigga, we can fight, I’m bumpin’ good likе D-Slugga
My Tahoe tinted up, comin’ through like undercovers
I’ll drop a mill’ on your head, you fuck off with my brother
I’m out here duckin’ the feds, leave a hundred up on her bed
Ride with me like I got pegs, I’m cuttin’ her off, she don’t give head
I see it up in his eyes, boy, give me that blicky, your ass scared
I’m out here movin’ swiftly, half of these opp-ass niggas on dead
I don’t care if she got some followers, I’ma leave the lil’ bitch on read
Out here trappin’ hella ice like I just jumped on a sled
Check out my neck, it’s hella ice, I got that shit from trappin’ meds
If she can’t show a fifty ball, bitch, get up out my bed

Chorus
I’m tired of fuckin’ these hoes, it’s time to go back home
I’m trappin’ up off the phone, I’m tired of swingin’ them O’s
I’m tired of swingin’ the pole, bitch, fuck the famous hoes
They act like they don’t know me and what the fuck I’m famous for

Post-Chorus
I’m famous for trappin’ the Bubba, uh, I’m famous for swingin’ the cutter
I pull up and finger-fuck her, might text her, but never fuck her
A robber from out the city, I ran it up, I was trappin’ Bubba
Robbin’ half of the city, Boston always stayin’ in trouble

Verse 2
Uh, uh, uh, woah, Kemosabe, big ballin’, this my hobby
Before these nigga was doin’ ‘Cats, I was runnin’ up ‘round the lobby
Before they got on Hellcats, I was whippin’ a big body
If you don’t like how I pop my shit, nigga, we can hit ‘bout it
That Tweetin’ up on IG’ll get a nigga stick ‘bout it
Uh, sayin’ that, “Lil’ Boston,” last nigga got flipped ‘bout it
That shit up in my hand, ain’t gotta come off the hip ‘bout it
Playin’ with the money’ll get your ass killed ‘bout it
Pull up, white and blue McLaren, Boston just fucked on a Karen
Real fuckin’ pallbearin’, why the fuck is y’all starin’?
Get in the field and do some leg work like my name was Uncle Daren
Connect this bitch like we on Bluetooth, me and her pairin’
Chorus
I’m tired of fuckin’ these hoes, it’s time to go back home
I’m trappin’ up off the phone, I’m tired of swingin’ them O’s
I’m tired of swingin’ the pole, bitch, fuck the famous hoes
They act like they don’t know me and what the fuck I’m famous for
Lyrics, Letras, Paroles, Deutsche, Letras, Testi,Тексты, Texty, Norske, Текстови, Versuri, Persian, Liricí, Lirik, Nederlandse, Tagalog