Piccolo

RTB MB

Album: Up the Score Durasi: 1:49

Ayy, Dawson, gang, you worldwide

Yeah

RTB shit

Let that bitch breathe

Yeah

Coast to coast whips, we in Cali with them foreigns

I done fell asleep, send the addy in the morning

I be in the Lam, you in Challys, bitch you boring

Why you call my phone? Bitch you know that I am recording

Got some more Diors, man you know I got sick of those

Green with the Off-White, call me Piccolo

Niggas loose as hell, leave the crib without a stick to tote

Tired of the club, told my plug to go get a boat

Why you look confused? Girl, you know we do this often

Caught a nigga lackin, throw it up, Randy Moss him

QP of the Larry Bird, I'm in Boston

Opp think he on, I'ma have my nigga off him

Made it out the hood, bitch you know I had to roll the dice

42 with the Azul, what you on tonight?

You rockin fake diamonds, ears green, what you cloning ice?

Money on my head, shit, that's cool, I'm prone to lice

Was kickin bitches out of the Bnb, you walking home tonight

Two-three knock his head off, If I'm zonin right

Damn, I meant three-two

Hit him in his lip, look like Fantasia when we see you

Ballin like the Answer, I'm in Philly like an Eagle

In Flint we RTB, but in Miami we The Beatles

I told that bitch, you stuffin to Kentucky, then I need you

Pull up to the hood Drac'd up, know I keep two