Radric Davis (Get) lyrics

[Intro]
(World Famous)
(World Famous)

[Verse 1: RMC Mike]
Turky bags, classic bag
Black bags, black mask
b*tch, I'll never fall in love with your rat ass
But she pretty, hypnotized me with that fat ass
Okay, money on the floor, money on the table
Brodie still tote that Glock, even though he on paper
Nephew hit the road with them ’bows, I just pray he make it
He made his first hundred thou', I'm like, "Congratulations"
I’m Gucci, Radric Davis
f*ck n*ggas tried to play us
The 'bows is down in basement
Presidential, Ronald Ragan
A hundred M's been on my mind, and sh*t, I'm tryna chase it
Ten racks, I spent that at the mall, your n*gga tryna save it
b*tch

[Verse 2: Bossileni Jagg]
We outside, this b*tch rapid firе
Play with me, you dying
We gon' grind, turn an 8 to 9
Chop that b*tch in dimes
What hе on? Brodie, where your pole? Turn him to a ghost
If it's smoke, we gon' do the most, lil' brodie up the scope
Selling dog, this sh*t Fentanyl, baby, check his pulse
Tryna ball, sell a brick and balls, I might sell it all
This sh*t raw, talking girl and dog
Let me make a call, get ’em off
Mikey, what it cost? Rollie with the frost
When I chill, brodie, who you kill? We with this sh*t for real
I might still throw a b*tch out the crib like Uncle Phil
I can’t feel, I ain't got no feelings, money over b*tches
This sh*t pimpin’, paper over pus*y, wealth over women