Souffly - Rico G

[edit lirik]

3:47 feelin like some sort of reverend

Wonderin what would of happened

If my aborted developed

I just want my dogs to have hella spots like Cruela’s

Those de’vils and those reserve notes that other government cheddar

I’m a king before I’m gone imma need a queen or a Coretta



And I promise to get it moist before I stick like an envelope

With a prenup in this bitch just in case it’s all a set up

We’re analog time to infants these mother fuckers can’t tell us



Cuz We aint tighten our belt up and some of my niggas sell drugs that

We fail and fail forever and we can fall and help ourselves up

But these are thoughts of a fighter

Right now can’t find my lighter so I lit this with my written

And wondered can I get higher

My fantasies manifest in the forms of the stacks and checks

And them women with perfect breasts

And I’m callin them boom box batteries

You know D’s come in sets

Crack a smile for the Day-Days money was funny as Mike Epps

That shit made it hard to rest



My told me to get paid

Touché

Just make hits

Boucher

Just to rise, that soufflé

When I die, no bouquet

What the fuck, on her brain

Tell that bitch to behave

No do-rag

It’s that new wave (x3)



I’m lovin life at the moment

It burn just right when I roll it

Imagine this nigga riding slow through Oakland in a Lotus

& Smoking some flower bomb where cops love to meet their quota

But I be easy, keep my j low, my j lo, Jennifer Lopez

Hit that store on the corner

Cheap liq and generic soda

Where without notice them stray bullets lifted that infant’s soul up

So we tryin to move on up

Trying to get my dough up



Till my pockets get sent to fat camp

For some man they blow up

That platinum or Whoopi Gold

32s Irving Magic

She get her Cookie on

Don’t pick them scabs that should grow

Then baby maybe we can grow

Like natural fros in ‘74

I’m dolomite to them socialites

Make them lie through their overbite

Bitch I know you came to fuck cuz you brought bags to stay overnight

That’s common sense like Chicago rap

If Jesus had a Twitter, I wonder who he would follow back

Random thought tilt that bottle back

But watch yourself most hate is thrown

Behind your back like a Rondo pass



Get paid

Touch

Just make hits

Boucher

Just to rise, that souffl

When I die, no bouquet

What the fuck, on her brain

Tell that bitch to behave

No do-rag

It’s that new wave (x3)



(X2)