R.I.P.

Album: It's Tha World (2012)
Charted: 58
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  • R.I.P it's the remix killer
    Mike Jack was alive, I'd remix Thriller
    Trap star, bitch, spell it with a big T
    Give a damn if I never be a hot MC
    Cause I'm a hood nigga, first on everybody's list
    Buy the whole club P, don't fuck with no Cris
    That average ass watch can't fuck with my wrist
    Them average ass hoes can't fuck with my bitch
    To the window, to the motherfuckin' wall
    Enough money in my jeans to buy a motherfuckin' mall
    Got the choppas in the back, bulletproof, that's my Hummer
    R.I.P. to the competition, this is my summer

    R.I.P I wanna kill the judge
    Tryna lock the homie up, they don't feel the thug
    I'm thirsty, but I don't give a fuck
    Fuckin' with my ex cause I'm still in love
    I can teach you how to fuck and how to stack money
    I ain't went Hollywood, you just act funny
    Girl I know you want this pipe like a crack bummy
    Stop playin', I'm tryna hit like a crash dummy

    Don't start no shit, it won't be no shit
    I can't take yo bitch if I don't see yo bitch
    We done seen that snow, Nat Geo bitch
    Cancel her and get another like I'm Nino bitch

    R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P
    R.I.P. we just killed the club
    Took patron to the head, almost killed a thug

    R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P
    R.I.P. we just killed the club
    Took patron to the head, almost killed a thug

    Pull up in this bitch and I'm beamin' and shit
    Hundred hoes, hundredfold, this my season and shit
    Stomach on belly roll, bitch I'm eatin' and shit
    You a vegan and shit, get off my penis and shit
    Look a bad bitch, I back that bitch nigga back back
    Pull it out the grab bag, turn this ho to Baghdad
    Bags on my eyes, I don't sleep much, we up
    Bitch I beat the beat up, the homies get you beat up
    And R.I.P to p-nut, little Eric
    Mossberg, 4 Bent, Compton I live that
    Long hair weave with extensions
    Glock 17 with extension
    Bumpin' Suga Free in the automatic dually
    T.V.'s in it like it's '97, watch a porno movie
    Holla Chitty Chitty Bang, this is Com-Town gang
    Fuck whoever don't like it, lil' K-Dot be the name, bitch

    R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P
    R.I.P. we just killed the club
    Took patron to the head, almost killed a thug

    R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P
    R.I.P. we just killed the club
    Took patron to the head, almost killed a thug

    R.I.P. to the V.I.P
    I got my lil' niggas in the club, fuck I.D
    My niggas kill at will, give you black eyed peas
    And the molly make the white girl look Chinese
    OHB, my niggas out here ballin'
    And all these fake ass artists, y'all niggas out here drawin'
    Okay now dearly departed I bought a plane, I departed
    And if you started from the bottom gon' and come out the closet
    You problematic, I bought them ratchets and automatics
    Clip hold 32, I make you feel the Magic
    You gon' see the flashes, like you in a pageant
    All black suits, and them long Caddys

    R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P
    R.I.P. we just killed the club
    Took patron to the head, almost killed a thug

    R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P
    R.I.P. we just killed the club
    Took patron to the head, almost killed a thug

    R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P
    R.I.P. we just killed the club
    Took patron to the head, almost killed a thug

    R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P
    R.I.P. we just killed the club
    Took patron to the head, almost killed a thug Writer/s: Andre Romell Young, Andrew Noland, Charles Carter, Christopher Brown, Dijon Isaiah McFarlane, Eric Wright, Gregory A Webster, Kendrick Lamar Duckworth, Lorenzo Jerald Patterson, Marshall Eugene Jones, Marvin R Pierce, Norman Bruce Napier, O'Shea Jackson,
    Publisher: SONGS OF SMP, RESERVOIR MEDIA MUSIC
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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