[Intro: RMC Mike]
Bitch

[Verse 1: RMC Mike]
I'm in the lab with the gang, pourin' eights up
I'm sick and tired of all these n***as wearin' fake buffs
I told Danny hit my line for a shape-up
I'm my own boss, I ain't never took a pay cut
Oh, you got a thousand grams of dog, n***a, say what?
I got a hundred grams of hard I just made up
We gon' take this shit OT and fuck the K up
Or shoot this shit down to Tennessee for a layup
I got some giffies on me too, I need eight hun'
Lil' bro got 'bows for twenty-three like he Draymond
And I got some hoes sellin' weave like it's Avon
My young dog all about his green like Rajon
Twenty-two hoes came with me, I feel like Tayshaun
Prince, n***a, if you want my bitch, you gotta take mine
Had KD step on this brick at least eight times
We only sellin' twenty rocks or better, boy, I hate dimes

[Verse 2: RLSG KD & GrindHard E]
Married to the game, I ain't never wore a tux
My fiend came to the spot with like eight bucks
Last thirty minutes, we done smoked eight blunts
Makin' love to this bitch, but it's really lust
I got a play for eight hundred, so I'm in a rush
I got a deuce of Hi-Tech in a small Crush
And I got a pint of Hi-Tech that I put up
C-Ball in the kitchen doin' a cook-up
He said he got a sixty-inch, I told him pull up
He don't know he gettin' a point-seven when he pull up
My fiend got a six of Hi-Tech, I told him pull up
I'ma punch him dead in his shit if it ain't none
My fiend JB got a grass-cuttin' gig
I told him cut the grass Friday, I don't think he did
This n***a called me with some 'bows, but I don't think they his
Told him if the price right, pull up at my crib