Royal Clutch - B.O.S (Live from the Tropics) Lyrics

You know what our style is
New York niggas, the wildest
You want it?
Come and get it
You f*cking right we did it

Come catch me flossing often Kos the bombest honest hardly novice with y'all daughters
I'm hot as august and dodge an officer's charges and harvest the knowledge
I'm dollars and cents with your friends we got you regardless all you twatters is garbage and hence
You microscopic with lens, its best you stop you pretend, a ten ain't your bars you ain't in
You ain't a win getting bent
I rise temperatures when
I come through with me and my kin we get it in getting head from some twins we just met

I, shit on the record with these lyrics like niggas expected
Fearlessly living, swinging these pistols at niggas to stress 'em
Officially insane, we don't claim but slay women for lessons
And still catching these niggas in feelings for bitches who left 'em
I keep it pushing in the event that people are looking
I stash the eagle, desert scene, never see me in bookings
My central thinking's cataclysmic to rappers with rhythm
You think it, I say it, there's a difference
These niggas don't get it

I mean
Back then they ain't want me
But now they popping up like hocus pocus
Young Jiggy be that focused
With flows that spit like four fours
Empty clips then start reloading
I know its hopeless
Its bogus
That your bitch want to get chosen
By a nigga thats the closest
Who me? Stepped on the scene
I'm sipping bottles of Dom P
Shorty she sweating me
Can you believe
The team, Janine, Maxine, Celine, Nadine
And damn, and every shorty in between
I stack green like my name Eugene Levine
Forever scheme on this cream, its all I need
You intervene I will leave your body steamed
And go unseen Royal Clutch we reign supreme
So we know he cold like C3PO
I got that ass up in the air while I sip some pinot
Nigga we on the repo
So bring it back to the style, wild, juvenile
Bitch ass niggas on the prowl, ow
Bite our style