(Smokey tryna smoke a nigga)
Bitch, haha, uh
(You in the mix with Troy)
Hah, hey
Louis runners on, 'Woods stuffed, catch a contact
Hundred-yard dash, that boy fast, he run a nine-flat
Bitch got a big pussy on her, look like a bobcat
It's still money over bitches, bring the M.O.b. Back
Cut the lights off, my ice brighter than the sunshine
Hop on the beat and beat a rapper ass with these punchlines
One call, they pullin' up with more sticks than a drumline
I got the it factor, I'm goin' for the win when it's crunch time
Just hired me a bad bitch to count the money up
Drill time, sent three to his chest, he need a tummy tuck
The first time I seen a hundred bands, I f*cked the money up
Lil' bitch wasn't tryna let me hit, it got her mommy f*cked
2020 Rolls bright orange, look like a pumpkin
When you and your mans was sittin' on the porch, I was hustlin'
Take a dime, flip it to a quarter, what's the subject?
You better up that bitch and start shootin' if you clutchin'
'Vette fast as hell, hit the gas and get lost in it
Me and you cannot make the same dollar, we was taught different
Four-five hit his cheekbone, now he talk different
Always keep it real with myself, bitch, I'm authentic
Switch let off thirty fast as hell, change the magazine
Bring me back to 2017, we was baggin' trees
Beat my bitch ass if she ever say, "Pass the weed"
Plus she can't ride dick that long, she got bad knees
Hey, DC, bring that camera out, we finna shoot somethin'
Added a Cuban to the kit, now that bitch worth like two hundred
Whole team knocked that bitch down, she be crew f*ckin'
I hate a nigga say what he gon' do, then don't do nothin'
Man, you niggas hoes
Four pockets full of money, walkin' pigeon-toed
You can get away with murder, you just did it wrong
My uncle still sellin' dope off a minute phone, shit
Presidential Rollie on my wrist cost a light eighty
Fell in love with a British bitch and had a white baby
They love the way I come up with these bars, they like, "Mike crazy"
She only like to f*ck when she drunk, you want a pint, baby?
Ghetto Boyz shit, free Ri, he'll be home quick
Girlie young as hell, throwin' ass like a grown bitch
I was finna pound the pussy out, but the song switched
Told neph' to sit down, then he got caught with the wrong shit
I know it's f*cked up, but it's consequences, ayy
I love my bitch 'cause she optimistic
I was sittin' courtside, I coulda shot a Piston
.308 big as hell, this bitch'll stop an engine
RMC Mike - Crunch Time Lyrics
RMC Mike - Crunch Time Lyrics
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(Smokey tryna smoke a nigga)
Bitch, haha, uh
(You in the mix with Troy)
Hah, hey
Louis runners on, 'Woods stuffed, catch a contact
Hundred-yard dash, that boy fast, he run a nine-flat
Bitch got a big pussy on her, look like a bobcat
It's still money over bitches, bring the M.O.b. Back
Cut the lights off, my ice brighter than the sunshine
Hop on the beat and beat a rapper ass with these punchlines
One call, they pullin' up with more sticks than a drumline
I got the it factor, I'm goin' for the win when it's crunch time
Just hired me a bad bitch to count the money up
Drill time, sent three to his chest, he need a tummy tuck
The first time I seen a hundred bands, I f*cked the money up
Lil' bitch wasn't tryna let me hit, it got her mommy f*cked
2020 Rolls bright orange, look like a pumpkin
When you and your mans was sittin' on the porch, I was hustlin'
Take a dime, flip it to a quarter, what's the subject?
You better up that bitch and start shootin' if you clutchin'
'Vette fast as hell, hit the gas and get lost in it
Me and you cannot make the same dollar, we was taught different
Four-five hit his cheekbone, now he talk different
Always keep it real with myself, bitch, I'm authentic
Switch let off thirty fast as hell, change the magazine
Bring me back to 2017, we was baggin' trees
Beat my bitch ass if she ever say, "Pass the weed"
Plus she can't ride dick that long, she got bad knees
Hey, DC, bring that camera out, we finna shoot somethin'
Added a Cuban to the kit, now that bitch worth like two hundred
Whole team knocked that bitch down, she be crew f*ckin'
I hate a nigga say what he gon' do, then don't do nothin'
Man, you niggas hoes
Four pockets full of money, walkin' pigeon-toed
You can get away with murder, you just did it wrong
My uncle still sellin' dope off a minute phone, shit
Presidential Rollie on my wrist cost a light eighty
Fell in love with a British bitch and had a white baby
They love the way I come up with these bars, they like, "Mike crazy"
She only like to f*ck when she drunk, you want a pint, baby?
Ghetto Boyz shit, free Ri, he'll be home quick
Girlie young as hell, throwin' ass like a grown bitch
I was finna pound the pussy out, but the song switched
Told neph' to sit down, then he got caught with the wrong shit
I know it's f*cked up, but it's consequences, ayy
I love my bitch 'cause she optimistic
I was sittin' courtside, I coulda shot a Piston
.308 big as hell, this bitch'll stop an engine
Bitch, haha, uh
(You in the mix with Troy)
Hah, hey
Louis runners on, 'Woods stuffed, catch a contact
Hundred-yard dash, that boy fast, he run a nine-flat
Bitch got a big pussy on her, look like a bobcat
It's still money over bitches, bring the M.O.b. Back
Cut the lights off, my ice brighter than the sunshine
Hop on the beat and beat a rapper ass with these punchlines
One call, they pullin' up with more sticks than a drumline
I got the it factor, I'm goin' for the win when it's crunch time
Just hired me a bad bitch to count the money up
Drill time, sent three to his chest, he need a tummy tuck
The first time I seen a hundred bands, I f*cked the money up
Lil' bitch wasn't tryna let me hit, it got her mommy f*cked
2020 Rolls bright orange, look like a pumpkin
When you and your mans was sittin' on the porch, I was hustlin'
Take a dime, flip it to a quarter, what's the subject?
You better up that bitch and start shootin' if you clutchin'
'Vette fast as hell, hit the gas and get lost in it
Me and you cannot make the same dollar, we was taught different
Four-five hit his cheekbone, now he talk different
Always keep it real with myself, bitch, I'm authentic
Switch let off thirty fast as hell, change the magazine
Bring me back to 2017, we was baggin' trees
Beat my bitch ass if she ever say, "Pass the weed"
Plus she can't ride dick that long, she got bad knees
Hey, DC, bring that camera out, we finna shoot somethin'
Added a Cuban to the kit, now that bitch worth like two hundred
Whole team knocked that bitch down, she be crew f*ckin'
I hate a nigga say what he gon' do, then don't do nothin'
Man, you niggas hoes
Four pockets full of money, walkin' pigeon-toed
You can get away with murder, you just did it wrong
My uncle still sellin' dope off a minute phone, shit
Presidential Rollie on my wrist cost a light eighty
Fell in love with a British bitch and had a white baby
They love the way I come up with these bars, they like, "Mike crazy"
She only like to f*ck when she drunk, you want a pint, baby?
Ghetto Boyz shit, free Ri, he'll be home quick
Girlie young as hell, throwin' ass like a grown bitch
I was finna pound the pussy out, but the song switched
Told neph' to sit down, then he got caught with the wrong shit
I know it's f*cked up, but it's consequences, ayy
I love my bitch 'cause she optimistic
I was sittin' courtside, I coulda shot a Piston
.308 big as hell, this bitch'll stop an engine
Writer: Demetric Smith
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid