Spice Masters lyrics

[Intro: KrispyLife Kidd]
KrispyLife, n*gga, alright
RMC Mike in this sh*t
(Coronado on the beat)
Look

[Verse 1: KrispyLife Kidd]
Spent a lot on these Guccis, so I'ma keep on walkin'
Ran up some dog sh*t, so I'ma keep on joggin'
Gramz bust his mouth down, told him, "Keep on talkin'"
Hit his hood with some big sh*t, the car keep on stallin'
So much sh*t in the trunk, I'm scared to move the whip
The waitress drop loads on him, that's what you call a tip
Hold this b*tch sideways, tryna shoot like I'm hittin' the whip
You ain't never been on nothin', boy, you's a b*tch

[Verse 2: RMC Mike]
Baby chopper hit him up close, removed his hip
Thumbin' through a hundred K cash, removed the slips
Handyman workin' on the crib, keeps tools and sh*t
Blew a n*gga car up, he wouldn't move his sh*t
Only f*ck with n*ggas that's like me, keep it too real
I done spent so much on Michael J's, I need a shoe deal
Ghetto Boy, Peezy ain't thе only one up two mil'
Boss sh*t, a snap of my finger could get you killеd
[Verse 3: KrispyLife Kidd]
In that matte-black 'Cat and we slidin' on two wheels
Scared to leave my sh*t runnin' 'cause Baby E steal
Let me manage your career, b*tch, I'm Dee Steele
In a drop 'Vette f*ckin' this b*tch up, I need a detail
She f*cked four Bloods this week, I know she tired of slobs
Hit a n*gga with that cha-cha, he ain't tryna slide
I surpassed a lot of n*ggas and now I'm idolized
Pop a n*gga at Checkers, he done died for fries

[Verse 4: RMC Mike]
Took a new b*tch to pound town, let the condom slide
I cannot let Tae see the E 'cause he bound to slide
Just scored a pint of Wockeisha, who down to fly?
I'm on my way to some pape', who down to ride?
n*gga, how the f*ck is you real, rockin' fake sh*t?
It's buttons everywhere in this b*tch like a spaceship
I'm pullin' up on any type of pape' if it make sense
You want the red pill or the blue pill? This The Matrix
Hellcat doin' one-sixty in the fast lane
Stayed down and waited my turn until the bag came
You had to use the whole thirty clip, boy, you got bad aim
I promise I'ma make it to the top, that's on my last name
Ghetto Boyz times IUR, we some problems
I'm droppin' so much heat inside this b*tch, I broke the module
Doggy bone tried to flex in our hood and we robbed him
Real lean head, been takin' sips of Act' since a toddler
[Verse 5: KrispyLife Kidd]
Wet a n*gga jean fit until he out of denim
n*gga play with you in any way, then you gotta kill him
b*tch, if you flirt with my n*gga, then you gotta hit him
In LA, just f*cked a b*tch that's from South Central
And I don't know if she Blood or Crip
Money got me walkin' funny, I got a dub a hip
Hit him twenty-seven times right above his hips
Amiris, I bought 'em too tight, only a dub can fit
In Seattle hittin' stores with my scammer b*tch
Seen the flash on the Glock, he thought a camera flicked
Clip full of cancer patients, try to cancel this
You could keep that Wockhardt, I'm a fan of Trish
Just got my di*k sucked on some random sh*t
On the 'Gram lookin' through my likes, which fan to hit?
Oyster or the Jubilee, which band to pick?
I brought my shooter out today, I said, "Stay in the pit"