Rhonda

Lyrics

KD had called and gave me the word
 Said this nigga had ten birds, in Augusta for the week
 From the islands, as soon as K told me this shit, I started smiling
 'Cause all I could see was money piling, shit, on top of money
 Now, can't you come up with the money for the week, and Chesapeake
 The heat made my nigga take a break
 If I could catch all 10 of them bitches, and I don't look suspicious
 I'ma sell the fucking quart for the A.A., ha ha
 As I told K bye bye, he shot me advice
 If you gone do it nigga do it nigga, fuck thinking twice
 This is ya nigga for life, go fight 'em fire for fire
 Hit my hip when you finish said his calling card expired
 Hung up the phone, contemplating on who help me do it
 There's Kia and Jessica and then Rhonda truitt
 Now Jessica to stupid and Kia lie to much
 I guess I'll take Rhonda, 'cause Rhonda don't give a fuck
 But first I got to pump her up, I'm give her what, 10 g's
 Tell her if she really love me she would do this for me
 Eternally we'll be together for better or for worse
 But first we got to take these niggas to the hearse
 Burst in they shit, get the bricks come back out
 I'm be waiting in the Chevy, you know I'm ready to take em' out
 If they front 'cha baby, come on, we make it we rich
 Come on, shit, Rhonda, my down ass bitch
 Help me Rhonda, help
 Help, help me Rhonda, help
 Help me Rhonda, help
 Help, help me Rhonda, help
 Help me Rhonda, help
 Help me Rhonda, help
 Help me Rhonda, help
 Help me Rhonda, help
 Well, I'm the realist bitch, I'm mo realer than reality
 Fuck that dumb shit, it take nothing to a casualty
 FBI be after me, quareter ki in my womanly
 Coming back from St. Croix, First lady to Pastor Troy
 Even I'm a Georgia Boy, 'cause boy I'm ready jack
 All you got to say is where them pussy niggas hangin' at
 Drop it like a maniac, set it off by myself
 Fuck them pussy motherfuckers and who ever else
 Okay baby, you set it off, there will be no more living single
 I'll be ready to tie the knot after we lick them for them blocks
 Grab the glock, and shot out the lot, and keep on bustin'
 Then I'm gone bust in cusin' and leave his punk ass fa' nothing
 Now what's in store for you is 10 G's
 That's enough for me, I don't give a fat fuck
 What's the fucking hold up? About this time I saw a truck, to a familiar
 K had said them motherfuckers had a truck similiar
 Passengers are him and her, playing some reggae shit
 Two a.k.'s, me and my bitch, one false move we gone spit
 Guess the driver thank he slick, dred head motherfucker
 Guess he most be know my bitch, Rhonda watch them motherfuckers
 That owe 'em money, that what, with K.D. and Chesapeake
 Heard that when he spoke with me and now her folk wanna smoke me
 If he had the keys all I can do now is wonder
 But for now me and Rhonda filling 'em up with the thunder
 Help me Rhonda, help
 Help me Rhonda, help
 Help me Rhonda, help
 Help me Rhonda, help
 Help me Rhonda, help
 Help me Rhonda, help
 Help me Rhonda, help
 Help me Rhonda, help

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
04:24
Key
7
Tempo
151 BPM

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