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RZA - The Drop Off Lyrics



RZA - The Drop Off Lyrics
Official




Yo, yo, yo, yo bobby
What up, what up? I can't really hear you
Ayo, I left ten pounds in the trunk and I gave sha' ten
Make sure he drops them shits off
I'm on my way back to Mexico, to pick up another hundred
(What up?) Can you hear me? Can you hear me? (Uh huh)
Yo make the drop off, don't forget man!

I got niggas on the block, block
Niggas with them gats, gats
Niggas on the strip, strip
Puffin' them packs, packs
To my workers that stays sharp like razors
Play my part and blaze it, we Braveheart with paper
My niggas got that dutch, dutch
Niggas got that black, black
Niggas got a bitch, bitch, head in they lap, lap
My team ain't wit' it, we dreamed and did it
Leaned and pivot, schemed for digits
Everything you seen, we lived it
Nigga front then we get at duke
Dick hard like statues go to hole like Shaq do
Cut you like a cantaloupe
Like Iverson the truth and the answer
I'm the poison and the antidote
Don't care if the bitch cute, we don't sex raw
We play the corners like the castles on a chess board
Up in the Lex 4, drinkin' a Beck's boy
Shoppin' in the best stores, I'm the nigga to check for

Want to spend our cheese, smoke all our weed
No tattoo on titties, sayin' f-are-e
And my nigga crizzee baby, and my nigga digi baby
Want to spend our cheese, smoke all our weed
No tattoo on titties, sayin' Bob Digi
Or shacrizzee baby, or lil' frizzee baby

Up in the drop-top boxter headin' the opposite
Direction of the cop inside the chopper
I got the tall Grey Goose vodka
This bitch on my side, with no panties, finger pop her
Ten pounds of skunk up in the front trunk
Bird like hittin' a blunt, about to cum, and I'm pinchin' her cunt
Ninety miles per hour I'm like "f*ck these punks!"
It's the land of the free son, you only live once
You a smart motherf*cker or you stupid dunce?
Music blastin', she orgasm like a singer
Sweet, wet pussy got all over my fingers
Now I'm sniffin' my hand, all sippin' the plan
Got the pedal to the floor, goin' swift as I can
Hit the exit, chk-chk-chuh, make the left quick
Hit the garage and slip inside the Lexus
I got many whips, many clips, many chicks
And my dick's been sucked by many lips
Many tips, or many vicks, many sticks
And left the god with plenty chips

He got many whips, many clips, many chicks
And his dick's been sucked by many lips
Many tips, or many vicks, many sticks
And love to f*ck with plenty chips

Want to spend our cheese, smoke all our weed
No tattoo on titties, sayin' f-are-e
And my nigga crizzee baby, and my nigga digi baby
Want to spend our cheese, smoke all our weed
No tattoo on titties, sayin' Bob Digi
Or shacrizzee baby, or lil' frizzee baby
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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Yo, yo, yo, yo bobby
What up, what up? I can't really hear you
Ayo, I left ten pounds in the trunk and I gave sha' ten
Make sure he drops them shits off
I'm on my way back to Mexico, to pick up another hundred
(What up?) Can you hear me? Can you hear me? (Uh huh)
Yo make the drop off, don't forget man!

I got niggas on the block, block
Niggas with them gats, gats
Niggas on the strip, strip
Puffin' them packs, packs
To my workers that stays sharp like razors
Play my part and blaze it, we Braveheart with paper
My niggas got that dutch, dutch
Niggas got that black, black
Niggas got a bitch, bitch, head in they lap, lap
My team ain't wit' it, we dreamed and did it
Leaned and pivot, schemed for digits
Everything you seen, we lived it
Nigga front then we get at duke
Dick hard like statues go to hole like Shaq do
Cut you like a cantaloupe
Like Iverson the truth and the answer
I'm the poison and the antidote
Don't care if the bitch cute, we don't sex raw
We play the corners like the castles on a chess board
Up in the Lex 4, drinkin' a Beck's boy
Shoppin' in the best stores, I'm the nigga to check for

Want to spend our cheese, smoke all our weed
No tattoo on titties, sayin' f-are-e
And my nigga crizzee baby, and my nigga digi baby
Want to spend our cheese, smoke all our weed
No tattoo on titties, sayin' Bob Digi
Or shacrizzee baby, or lil' frizzee baby

Up in the drop-top boxter headin' the opposite
Direction of the cop inside the chopper
I got the tall Grey Goose vodka
This bitch on my side, with no panties, finger pop her
Ten pounds of skunk up in the front trunk
Bird like hittin' a blunt, about to cum, and I'm pinchin' her cunt
Ninety miles per hour I'm like "f*ck these punks!"
It's the land of the free son, you only live once
You a smart motherf*cker or you stupid dunce?
Music blastin', she orgasm like a singer
Sweet, wet pussy got all over my fingers
Now I'm sniffin' my hand, all sippin' the plan
Got the pedal to the floor, goin' swift as I can
Hit the exit, chk-chk-chuh, make the left quick
Hit the garage and slip inside the Lexus
I got many whips, many clips, many chicks
And my dick's been sucked by many lips
Many tips, or many vicks, many sticks
And left the god with plenty chips

He got many whips, many clips, many chicks
And his dick's been sucked by many lips
Many tips, or many vicks, many sticks
And love to f*ck with plenty chips

Want to spend our cheese, smoke all our weed
No tattoo on titties, sayin' f-are-e
And my nigga crizzee baby, and my nigga digi baby
Want to spend our cheese, smoke all our weed
No tattoo on titties, sayin' Bob Digi
Or shacrizzee baby, or lil' frizzee baby
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Freedom Drayton, Robert F. Diggs, William Jonathan Drayton
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

Back to: RZA



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