RMC Mike - Crunch Time lyrics
[RMC Mike - Crunch Time lyrics]
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 MOB 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
Hе need a tummy tuck
The first time I seen a hundred bands
I fuckеd the money up
Lil' bitch wasn't tryna let me hit
It got her mommy fucked
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 fuckin'
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 fuck 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 fucked 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
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 MOB 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
Hе need a tummy tuck
The first time I seen a hundred bands
I fuckеd the money up
Lil' bitch wasn't tryna let me hit
It got her mommy fucked
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 fuckin'
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 fuck 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 fucked 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