Sick lyrics

[Intro]
Aye, aye, aye, aye
Y'all n*ggas ain't talkin' 'bout sh*t
So I'm in the club with my stick (Aye)
Hell nah I ain't takin' no pics, these broke n*ggas make me sick (ooh, aah)
b*tch my name Rob Vicious, hoe I know I ain't sh*t (gang gang gang)
29 b*tches all on my di*k, hope the b*tch don't know I'm rich

[Verse 1]
Ooh, if the b*tch pull up better blow my di*k
Got stacks on deck, b*tch I'm on my sh*t
100 packs on deck, just stole this sh*t
Still shopping with the plug like I don't know sh*t
Why your b*tch keep flexing like she don't suck di*k
The way that n*gga started acting thinking he won't suck di*k
I don't even really really wanna f*ck that b*tch
But she f*ckin' on the homie why you trust that b*tch?
Damn, aye, y'all hoes ain't talkin' bout sh*t
If I walk up in the club with my stick y'all ain't walkin' out this b*tch (Braaah)
I'ma let that b*tch rip ain't no talkin' out this sh*t (aye)
And she grindin' on the 30 clip, know it feel just like my di*k
Ooh, when you suckin up on my di*k don't spit b*tch swallow that sh*t
You a model ass b*tch, hmm, I don't even follow that b*tch
Hell nah, you at the bottom b*tch, can't date you can be my bottom little b*tch
Cannot snap you with the camera like a model lil' b*tch
I'm Beatin' up the taco now she got a lil' split