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Rylo Rodriguez – For Me Lyrics

For Me Lyrics – Rylo Rodriguez

(Nile, I hear you)
(Pablo, you crazy for this one, haha)

It’s the Wockhardt kind with no cut for me
It’s the Glock 26 on tuck for me
It’s that’s how you buy a purse but ain’t fuck for me
It’s the ass shots you got up in the butt for me
It’s the how you rob a nigga without a gun for me?
How you keep catchin’ charges, gettin’ bonds for me?
It’s the I’m gone flex when I get a loan for me
It’s the scammin’ who I fuck for some phones for me
It’s the Rollie for me, it’s the Patek for me
Know I’m goin’ up, go get a ladder for me
Yeah, I’m pourin’ up, three in the Fanta for me
She in Texas, she fl w to Atlanta for me
I don’t give a fuck ’bout no VIP wristband
Ayy, book me, I fuck around, throw up th backend
My brother couldn’t make this show, he got the pack in
I’m mad that I fucked the hoe, she got some bad friends

It’s you braggin’ on your pussy when I get in it, you runnin’ from me
Fuck up her hairdo and buy her some weaves
It’s the yes, she bad but she get naked for weed
Ayy, it’s the way you gotta cramp the Lamb for me
It’s the puttin’ guns on the gram for me
Yeah the hoe from Chiraq, say she knew Lil Reese
I’m makin’ moves, I won’t renew the lease
Foot on they neck, got my hand on the check, I ain’t takin’ no bet unless they betting the house
I got lean in a drought
I make money independent, the paramedics dyin’ for a [?]
All my dawg they know, you might die over that post
You play with us? You just might die over that joke
You better check up, I mean you gon’ die with that hoe
In my city you lack, you gon’ die with that smoke

It’s the Wockhardt kind with no cut for me
It’s the Glock 26 on tuck for me
It’s that’s how you buy a purse but ain’t fuck for me
It’s the ass shots you got up in the butt for me
It’s the how you rob a nigga without a gun for me?
How you keep catchin’ charges, gettin’ bonds for me?
It’s the I’m gone flex when I get a loan for me
It’s the scammin’ who I fuck for some phones for me
It’s the Rollie for me, it’s the Patek for me
Know I’m goin’ up, go get a ladder for me
Yeah, I’m pourin’ up, three in the Fanta for me
She in Texas, she flew to Atlanta for me
I don’t give a fuck ’bout no VIP wristband
Ayy, book me, I fuck around, throw up the backend
My brother couldn’t make this show, he got the pack in
I’m mad that I fucked the hoe, she got some bad friends

For me it’s the Patek
She send me the addy, I pull up that Z06 ‘matic
This ain’t from rappin’ this shit out the attic, I’m movin’ the package
I keep it so G, ain’t no lies with me (For me)
Damn that bitch bad, it’s the eyes for me
Why she standin’ like this? It’s the thighs for me
And she get money, it’s the grind for me
She don’t see no hoes, yeah, she blind for me
Straight up in apartment, do a crime for me
Partner in the fed, doin’ a dime for me
Jay in the kitchen, cookin’ nines for me
And I ain’t never paid a nigga slide for me
Why not? ‘Cause it’s the heart for me
Pull up in the hood with so much work, and I ain’t never thought ’bout no nigga robbin’ me
Hit the turquoise Rari on Forgis to me
Too busy havin’ orgies with me
Price right plug been spoilin’ me
They’ll get ’em to your door like Amazon Prime
Every time you beat one, your homeboy dyin’ (Yeah)
Every time you post and your captions be lyin’
Nigga, live your life, quit tryna live mine
Cause that ain’t what poppin’ to me
It’s the profit for me, pop up and reup again
My bitch a 20, two 10’s
And I don’t do friends
I prefer enemies, at least I know what these niggas plan to do to me, yeah
Crib in the suburb but really it’s the trenches for me (Yeah)
Master bedroom cold but really it’s the kitchen for me (The kitchen for me, yeah)

It’s the Wockhardt kind wit no cut for me
It’s the Glock 26 on tuck for me
It’s that’s how you buy a purse but ain’t fuck for me
It’s the ass shots you got up in the butt for me
It’s the how you rob a nigga without a gun for me?
How you keep catchin’ charges, gettin’ bonds for me?
It’s the I’m gone flex when I get a loan for me
It’s the scammin’ who I fuck for some phones for me
It’s the Rollie for me, it’s the Patek for me
Know I’m goin’ up, go get a ladder for me
Yeah, I’m pourin’ up, three in the Fanta for me
She in Texas, she flew to Atlanta for me
I don’t give a fuck ’bout no VIP wristband
Ayy, book me, I fuck around, throw up the backend
My brother couldn’t make this show, he got the pack in
I’m mad that I fucked the hoe, she got some bad friends