Range Brothers Song Lyrics
Bad bitch, pardon me, I say, “What’s up?”Educated, so I put her in the cutI need a girlfriend, I need a girlfriendTwo hoes and I think I did too muchI got two phones and I don’t know who to trustI need a girlfriend, I need a girlfriendBet that girlfriend lonely, introduce her to my humorIt’s a lot of bitches that they sent home in their UberUh, high-profile niggas in my circle dodgin’ rumorsI been tucked away dodgin’ blood suckin’ maneuvers
Huh? Okay, just say you not readyOkay, okay, comin’ in heavyOkay, they ain’t in shape, I’m petty, okay, okayOkay, y’all be on E, un-leadyOkay, okay, hold the confettiOkay, okay, just say you not ready
They wanna bite the hand that try to feed ’em, prudesYou cannot hide behind the shades, I see right through itYou ain’t stand up on your word, then you’s a foolThey’re not, chea, they’re not, chea, they’re not bool
I be wanna see me whole gang on TV, PG my RollieTurnin’ down tops and the top bitches, that remind me of the old daysSneakin’ in hoes with the backstage passWhat they all in, huh, for the poet? Huh?I’m a young poetic nigga, I just go at it, niggaI’m a whore at it, niggaYou could ask my mama, we poetic, niggaI was raised in the projects, we could go at it, niggaI can’t wait no time on a co-edded, niggaBro-code, me and Dave count through seven figuresRaised around bottles and dope fiendsOn a high seat since the day I turned sixteen747, I’m starin’ at plane wingsPrayin’ the Lord’s seen, Grandma prayin’ for me (ayy)
Huh? Okay, just say you not readyOkay, okay, comin’ in heavyOkay, they ain’t in shape, I’m petty, okay, okayOkay, y’all be on E, un-leadyOkay, okay, hold the confettiOkay, okay, just say you not ready
They wanna bite the hand that try to feed ’em, prudesYou cannot hide behind the shades, I see right through itYou ain’t stand up on your word, then you’s a foolThey’re not, they’re not, they’re not bool
Everybody wanna be greatBut the word don’t relateTo the life be mistakin’ the truth, niggaI remember bankin’ with Chase like four-hundred KStarin’ at it, I ain’t know what to do, niggaNow I look at money like a resourceEvery contract gotta put my kid’s family in schoolHealth and wealth, goin’ deep for itDo right for my next lifeLet me get some tooI remember roaches, mama lost focusI was at home, no lights, no foodHeard that the joke is, “Hykeem broke”And head to the ground when I walk in schoolGoin’ through the motions, mad impulsiveGranny, I won’t abide by the rulesI shall reside with advisers to boomFuck that, booman, let me get some tooLife ain’t always about your name in they mouthAnd the cars and the clothes and the jewels (jewels, oh)Every lil’ bitch that’s born lookin’ like soft pornOnly meant for your ego to bruise (bruise, oh)Bet when the hoes get bored and the points ain’t scoreYou gon’ live in this world confused (‘fused, whoa)Every day the hate restored and the faith get shortFuck that, let me get some tooNigga, my livelihood was understoodThat the roof I’m in not boolNigga, the shoes I fill are huge“Keem, wanna share that ho?” Bro, moveNigga wanna fake sneak diss‘Cause I fucked his bitch in a black hatchbackI front in the pics when the heart don’t matchTake care of the kids, gotta go where they at, ayy
Hold on, let’s get this shit, let’s get this shitLet’s get this shit, let’s, hmmTop of the mornin’, top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’Top of the mornin’Hold on, let’s get this shit, let’s get this shitLet’s get this shit, let’s, hmm (like what these niggas on, like?)
Ain’t shit changed, still fuckin’ and rappin’Two bad bitches here, Cartier glasses, huhHer friend got pornography habits (give me that bitch, but, sir)Rollie gang, Rollie gang, Rollie gang (pgLang, fool)Hundred thousand on her, she know she gang (she’s hot)Rover gang, Rover gang, Rover gang (Rover gang)Range brothers out the roof, we’re not the Wayans (we’re not the Wayans)Bitch, I hate to tell the truth, we’re not the same (he’s Baby Keem)I’m with my Rover brother and we’re runnin’ game (a Range Rover)Rippin’ rubber bands on the meatloafOverseas, tidy up for me ‘fore I get homeTake one, take two, take three, heave itStop hidin’ comments under your sleeve, nigga, believe itWhy your boyfriend keep on lookin’ for me, is he Jesus?
Let’s get this shit, let’s get this shitLet’s get this shit, let’s, hmmTop of the mornin’, top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’Top of the mornin’Hold on, let’s get this shit, let’s get this shitLet’s get this shit, let’s, hmm
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