DB.Boutabag, Drakeo The Ruler - Top Rappe lyrics
[DB.Boutabag, Drakeo The Ruler - Top Rappe lyrics]
Ayy, you got a wack jumper
All that pillow talkin' on the 'Gram
And you ain't slap nothin'
You know my niggas in the building
You see racks bustin'
And I'm smokin' dope before my
Shows like I'm David Ruffin we can't contact
You ain't talkin' blues, lil' baby
We can't contact
Bitch, I'm right through that skrrt
Bitch, I'm right through that
Road like a lineback
Bitch, I'm why you ask that?
And I'm still uh
Used to fuck the they broke up
Now we back fuckin' ayy, nigga
Paranoid behind tint clutchin' and
This bitch Russian
(Ayy, I'm Boutabag, ain't gotta ask me)
I'm just a Boutabag nigga, why you ask that?
(Why you ask that that?)
In them trenches still
Twin got that trap jumpin'
(Twin got that trap jumpin')
Used to fuck the bitch, they broke up
Now we back fuckin' (Now we back fuckin')
Paranoid behind tint clutchin' and
This bitch Russian (And this bitch Russian)
Ayy, nigga, you got a wack jumper
(You got a wack jumper)
All that pillow talkin' on the 'Gram
And you ain't slap nothin'
(You ain't slap nothin')
You know my niggas in the building
You see racks bustin'
(You see racks bustin')
And I'm smokin' dope before my
Shows like I'm David Ruffin
(Bitch, I'm gettin' klocked)
Baby gettin' thundered off this contact
(Off this contact)
You ain't talkin' bluеs, lil' baby
We can't contact (Nigga, you can't contact)
Bitch, I'm right through that
Road like a lineback (Likе a lineback)
And I'm tryna hit your old lady
Where your mom at?
(Bitch, where your mom at?)
Ayy, 'cause I'm gon' run it over
(I'm gon' run it over)
You in her purse off a pill
I'm in her while she sober
(I'm in her while she sober)
You don't hang out with no Benjis
All you niggas loners (You niggas bums)
Niggas only hard around a bitch
But he don't keep a blower
(Ain't got the pole)
Ayy, is you goofy? Pause (Nigga)
Brother out here trippin'
He keep stick in his drawers
(He keep stick in his drawers) three hoes
(Three hoes) , call him Santa Claus (Nigga)
Fuck a broke bitch, yeah
This rich dick ain't for y'all
(Ain't for y'all)
You see these deadstock kicks? I ain't
Get 'em from the mall
(I ain't get 'em from the mall)
Lil' 'Sace belt
Keep a pair of Ethis for the drawers
(Keep a for the drawers)
She lookin' at me now
Sound like round of applause (Goals)
These bitches say I'm poppin'
Say my locs gettin' long (Go, go, go)
Wasn't fuckin' with me, I was
On my ass, bitch, you wrong
(Bitch, you wrong)
Nigga speakin' on his bag, we
Gotta get him gone, ayy
(Get that nigga)
Slim thick bad bitch, Nia Long (Ah)
Bitch, I'm klocked in this bitch
Cheech & Chong (Bitch, I'm klocked)
I'm gon' fuck, now she need
Some Blues Clues, bitch, i'm gone
(I gotta go)
I remember days tryna bust a trap all alone
(Ayy, I'm to the neck)
Eyes on the road, don't answer on no phones
(Don't answer on no phones) i'm the shit
Now I always talk shit on microphones
(Talk shit on microphones)
Two-steppin' in my mode, on my whoadie
He gon' go (I miss my brother)
I think I love Givenchy clothes
I'm off this dog, got me slumped
(Nigga, don't get smacked)
I ain't playin' limbo, bitch
My eyes gettin' low (I'm in here klocked)
Gang task pulled me over, said
"Sir, we smell smoke, " ayy
(We smell smoke)
Ayy, you got a wack jumper
All that pillow talkin' on the 'Gram
And you ain't slap nothin'
You know my niggas in the building
You see racks bustin'
And I'm smokin' dope before my
Shows like I'm David Ruffin
Baby gettin' thundered off this contact
You ain't talkin' blues, lil' baby
We can't contact
Bitch, I'm right through that
Road like a lineback
And I'm tryna hit your old lady
Where your mom at?
I got Pippi Longstocking in the compact
Just got off the phone with Lil Boat
But this a Yacht-Master
I see you dropped a couple shells
But I shot faster
This Sheneneh, that's a stick
I'm a Glock master
Always see me up in LA, I'm a top rapper
Any foreign you can think of, nigga
I crashed it
You seen us up in 2016, we was not rappin'
We was wildin' in the streets
I done shot rappers
Won't ever see me with a gun, nigga
I'm cappin'
If it don't carry a drum, I cannot have it
Just gave a nigga the business
I ain't no stock owner
Brains all on Wall Street
I ain't no stock broker
Boy, you carryin' a Hi-Point
You is not focused a hundiddy on his block
Left the Glock smokin'
All them pictures with them blowers
You do not own one
His mans was a free throw
He got a wack jumper a hundiddy on his block
Left the Glock smokin'
All them pictures with them blowers
You do not own one
His mans was a free throw
He got a wack jumper
He pulled up actin' like a bitch
I had to slap on him, ugh
Ayy, you got a wack jumper
All that pillow talkin' on the 'Gram
And you ain't slap nothin'
You know my niggas in the building
You see racks bustin'
And I'm smokin' dope before my
Shows like I'm David Ruffin
Baby gettin' thundered off this contact
You ain't talkin' blues, lil' baby
We can't contact
Bitch, I'm right through that
Road like a lineback
And I'm tryna hit your old lady
Where your mom at?
All that pillow talkin' on the 'Gram
And you ain't slap nothin'
You know my niggas in the building
You see racks bustin'
And I'm smokin' dope before my
Shows like I'm David Ruffin we can't contact
You ain't talkin' blues, lil' baby
We can't contact
Bitch, I'm right through that skrrt
Bitch, I'm right through that
Road like a lineback
Bitch, I'm why you ask that?
And I'm still uh
Used to fuck the they broke up
Now we back fuckin' ayy, nigga
Paranoid behind tint clutchin' and
This bitch Russian
(Ayy, I'm Boutabag, ain't gotta ask me)
I'm just a Boutabag nigga, why you ask that?
(Why you ask that that?)
In them trenches still
Twin got that trap jumpin'
(Twin got that trap jumpin')
Used to fuck the bitch, they broke up
Now we back fuckin' (Now we back fuckin')
Paranoid behind tint clutchin' and
This bitch Russian (And this bitch Russian)
Ayy, nigga, you got a wack jumper
(You got a wack jumper)
All that pillow talkin' on the 'Gram
And you ain't slap nothin'
(You ain't slap nothin')
You know my niggas in the building
You see racks bustin'
(You see racks bustin')
And I'm smokin' dope before my
Shows like I'm David Ruffin
(Bitch, I'm gettin' klocked)
Baby gettin' thundered off this contact
(Off this contact)
You ain't talkin' bluеs, lil' baby
We can't contact (Nigga, you can't contact)
Bitch, I'm right through that
Road like a lineback (Likе a lineback)
And I'm tryna hit your old lady
Where your mom at?
(Bitch, where your mom at?)
Ayy, 'cause I'm gon' run it over
(I'm gon' run it over)
You in her purse off a pill
I'm in her while she sober
(I'm in her while she sober)
You don't hang out with no Benjis
All you niggas loners (You niggas bums)
Niggas only hard around a bitch
But he don't keep a blower
(Ain't got the pole)
Ayy, is you goofy? Pause (Nigga)
Brother out here trippin'
He keep stick in his drawers
(He keep stick in his drawers) three hoes
(Three hoes) , call him Santa Claus (Nigga)
Fuck a broke bitch, yeah
This rich dick ain't for y'all
(Ain't for y'all)
You see these deadstock kicks? I ain't
Get 'em from the mall
(I ain't get 'em from the mall)
Lil' 'Sace belt
Keep a pair of Ethis for the drawers
(Keep a for the drawers)
She lookin' at me now
Sound like round of applause (Goals)
These bitches say I'm poppin'
Say my locs gettin' long (Go, go, go)
Wasn't fuckin' with me, I was
On my ass, bitch, you wrong
(Bitch, you wrong)
Nigga speakin' on his bag, we
Gotta get him gone, ayy
(Get that nigga)
Slim thick bad bitch, Nia Long (Ah)
Bitch, I'm klocked in this bitch
Cheech & Chong (Bitch, I'm klocked)
I'm gon' fuck, now she need
Some Blues Clues, bitch, i'm gone
(I gotta go)
I remember days tryna bust a trap all alone
(Ayy, I'm to the neck)
Eyes on the road, don't answer on no phones
(Don't answer on no phones) i'm the shit
Now I always talk shit on microphones
(Talk shit on microphones)
Two-steppin' in my mode, on my whoadie
He gon' go (I miss my brother)
I think I love Givenchy clothes
I'm off this dog, got me slumped
(Nigga, don't get smacked)
I ain't playin' limbo, bitch
My eyes gettin' low (I'm in here klocked)
Gang task pulled me over, said
"Sir, we smell smoke, " ayy
(We smell smoke)
Ayy, you got a wack jumper
All that pillow talkin' on the 'Gram
And you ain't slap nothin'
You know my niggas in the building
You see racks bustin'
And I'm smokin' dope before my
Shows like I'm David Ruffin
Baby gettin' thundered off this contact
You ain't talkin' blues, lil' baby
We can't contact
Bitch, I'm right through that
Road like a lineback
And I'm tryna hit your old lady
Where your mom at?
I got Pippi Longstocking in the compact
Just got off the phone with Lil Boat
But this a Yacht-Master
I see you dropped a couple shells
But I shot faster
This Sheneneh, that's a stick
I'm a Glock master
Always see me up in LA, I'm a top rapper
Any foreign you can think of, nigga
I crashed it
You seen us up in 2016, we was not rappin'
We was wildin' in the streets
I done shot rappers
Won't ever see me with a gun, nigga
I'm cappin'
If it don't carry a drum, I cannot have it
Just gave a nigga the business
I ain't no stock owner
Brains all on Wall Street
I ain't no stock broker
Boy, you carryin' a Hi-Point
You is not focused a hundiddy on his block
Left the Glock smokin'
All them pictures with them blowers
You do not own one
His mans was a free throw
He got a wack jumper a hundiddy on his block
Left the Glock smokin'
All them pictures with them blowers
You do not own one
His mans was a free throw
He got a wack jumper
He pulled up actin' like a bitch
I had to slap on him, ugh
Ayy, you got a wack jumper
All that pillow talkin' on the 'Gram
And you ain't slap nothin'
You know my niggas in the building
You see racks bustin'
And I'm smokin' dope before my
Shows like I'm David Ruffin
Baby gettin' thundered off this contact
You ain't talkin' blues, lil' baby
We can't contact
Bitch, I'm right through that
Road like a lineback
And I'm tryna hit your old lady
Where your mom at?