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Nasty Freestyle – T-Wayne

Yeah, Say Roro you know what it is, right?
“Who Is Ricky Wayne?: The Mixtape”
Ya feel me? Yah

First, let me hop out the motherfucking Porsche
I don’t want her if that ass don’t sit like a horse
I be balling on these niggas, got me feeling like sports
Dash got so much wood I could build me a fort
Ain’t too many things I ain’t done yet
I’m the king of this shit, crowned by the toilet
I’m just barely getting started, you already upset
Got a tiger as a pet, I just took him to the vet
Homie, I be making hits, I’m the rap Derek Jeter
Let your bitch ride on me like she was on the feder
If the pussy ain’t good then I probably won’t feed her
Lil homie, you can keep her, cause I really don’t need her
I ain’t worried ’bout features, homeboy, you’s a pee on
Toilet seat ass nigga, man, I swear, you getting peed on
Man, my jewelry so cold, I walk around with the heat on
My alarm clock set, just in case they wanna sleep on, ya dig?
I’m a full time player, hopping out in alligator
Sipping lean and Now and Later, homie, I’ll annihilate you
If you think you wanna battle, you gon’ have to pay some paper
I just hit her and I quit her, I would never ever dater her
It’s a shame how I’m barely getting love in the city
Travel to another town, you can bet they fucking with me
I be killing this shit, pray to God they forgive me
They said, “when you blow up, don’t forget me”, man
I been on fire, ever since they made the lighter
My boys will pull up on ya, homie, I ain’t talking diapers
Walk into your function, on point, I’m like a sniper
My girl bad like Dej Loaf so don’t try her
Flexing all you want, but homeboy, you ain’t ready
Ten times sharper than Michael Myers machete
Been about the money, I ain’t worried ’bout the fame
‘Bout to have everybody saying, “Who is Rickey Wayne?”
That me…

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Broke Wrist (Feat. Key! & T-Wayne) – T-Wayne

Lirik lagu: Broke Wrist (Feat. Key! & T-Wayne)

[Hook – T-Wayne:]
Young nigga smooth with the wrist [x12]

[Verse 1 – Rich The Kid:]
Wrist game, Wrist game
Young nigga in the kitchen made a mill with the wrist game
Fucking your bitch in that matte black
Bring it back
Taught her how to whip it in the kitchen
Made a come back
I was countin’ up racks when they was sleepin’ on me
Bankroll too big, can’t put a rubber band on it
I could whip it with a motherfucking broke wrist
Had to come up to the plug for the whole brick
Young nigga smooth with the pot
I don’t wanna fuck
Give me top
I got 22 pigeons in the drop
I don’t fuck with nobody cause I’m hot
Think I’m playing?, you must be crazy
In the living room tryna whip a baby
Thank the lord that I made it cause they hate me
Taking trips out to Haiti
They know I’m rich, but a nigga still trappin’
We did it once, now the whole world dabbin’
Diamonds on froze, like the South Pole
Gas bag
Gas bag
I know they watching, so I’m trappin’ smarter
Tryna break the pot
I whip it harder

[Hook – T-Wayne]

[Verse 2 – Key:]
Gotta make love to the pot
Love to the pot
Gotta make love to the pot
Love to the pot
When you scrape the pot
Better not miss a spot
Boy you missed a spot
Now you owe me guap
Made a lot of guap
Off my fucking wrist
I done took some risks
That made a nigga rich
Shout out my brother Rich
Shout out my brother Flip
My blood brother, man, man
Savage, he gon’ trip
Oh Lord, not again
Oh Lord, not again
I think I hurt my hand, man
I think I broke my wrist
Wrist, Wrist, Wrist
Man, fuck that bitch
This some real shit
Yeah, I really whipped a brick
I don’t get the gist
I don’t get the gist
I really did this shit
It really don’t make no sense
You ain’t making sense
You ain’t making sense
Get up out my phone
I’m finna go fuck my dick

READ  Same Thing - T-Wayne

[Hook – T-Wayne]

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Boomin Freestyle – T-Wayne

Lirik lagu: Boomin Freestyle

Rickey Wayne still the black Justin Bieber
Fur coat cause I got jungle fever
All my girls got Clyde, no teacher
All my girls a work of art, Mona Lisa
Pull up feelin’ like I’m Michael Jackson
Dropped a mixtape and then I went platinum
You was the man in high school, what happened
Man my whole team eating, pass the napkins
Taking trips to Bermuda
Now I’m whipping like Kunta
On point, Freddy Krueger
Rickey broke, that’s a rumor
Whole team taking off, so you better move
I had to flick my wrist cause I woke up on the moon
Man Rickey Wayne cool even in the month of June
All these other rappers faker than a bunch of cartoons
Rickey Wayne part 2, got your girl getting loose
I’m on top, no roof, in the clouds like Zeus
Man I’m young presidential
Pull up, no rental
Kicking shit like kimbo
Getting head like mental
I’m just going off my mental
Homeboy smoking like a whole bag of indo
RIP to my little brother Timbo
Ballin’ on these haters, you can catch me in the gym-bo
Couldn’t get the Xbox, had to flex with the Nintendo
That’s when I was young and I had a lot of hunger
Had the girls getting hot, undressing like it’s summer
I’m good with punctuations cause I see a lot of commas
My bank account looking like a cellphone number

READ  Fuck It Up - T-Wayne
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Preach Flow – T-Wayne

It’s Rickey
I don’t neck Hollywood, but I’ve been to Hollywood though

[Verse – T-Wayne:]
If you ain’t getting to the money don’t approach me
Man they bout to make me go back to the old me
I’ve been it to this ever since 03
Young in the game but they treat me like an 0G
I might just pull up with your chick, but you gon’ tell somebody
She gotta have a nice have and have some body
I’m sippin Hennessy I don’t even sip Bacardi
Go tell the promoter add 10 for the after-party
And I ain’t even being cocky I’m just being real
I’m running up the sack, my money’s on a treadmill
I had to keep it moving, I can’t ever stay still
All these other rappers going in circles, no ferris wheel
I been focused on my grind, tryna get it together
And lately they been tryna stop me, but it’s whatever
Doin’ what I got to do so I can get the cheddar
I like my bread with some chips and some mozzarella
These rappers fake like Ms. Cleo
My wallet big like the head on that nigga Ne-Yo
I’m the type to pull up in the club with a tuxedo
I like my girls with more curves than a bag of Fritos
Listen to me
I’m a have to preach like Dolph said
I’m swimmin in your chick like a dolphin
I’m ballin’ on these hoes like I’m golfin
I only speak money so my wallet do the talkin
If you came from where I’m from then you know I’m from the bottom
I don’t feel sorry ’bout your problems cause we all got ’em
Now everybody tryna figure out how I got poppin’
But only God knows, and they can’t figure how to stop him
That’s Rickey

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Abilene how it do
H Town what’s the deal
Karen-ton what up
D Town what’s up
You know I’m sayin
DP I see you fool
AC I see you fool
You know, it is
Yo Ali, what it do
ACT what’s the guild, baby

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