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Three Words

Rich Homie Quan

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My flow hard to bite for all you stale eaters
And I’m still smart as hell like a Yale teacher
Pneumonia, I’m hot headed, rare fever
Foul call, no foul ball, play fair people
I tell Bone that I’m a young nigga, worth some car lots
Two cell phones and a pistol, I call shots
I’m trippin’ money too, them tall knots
I’m living, doing new things I never thought about
No sick days in my job description, i’m calling off
My ho gone, i’m home alone Macaulay Culkin
How could I know? She ready to go
House full of hoes, reality show
She sat in the ghost, no Casper, better go faster than it appear
And that’s a Phantom not a real ghost so don’t fear
Double letters on my Rolls Royce, and i’m Ronald Reagan of that building, bitch
Real recognize real, relying on Richie Rich
Got dutch master for the kush smoker
Hold the Reggie, for the Bush totters
“Fuck blacks” is what Bush told us
Fuck that we took over
I bust back like a foot soldier
Give you good gas like a shook soda
Bulldozer, he cook cola, no haircut
Gave you the part, that’s not what I do it for
Margie not cool with her
Lisa mad I’m on Simpson, and Homer say, he through with her
Molly make your heartbeat fast
I bought me a house across from Mia's house
And Maggie in the backseat laughing, calling me Daddy
I ain’t your pappy, I’m pimpin’ out of 3 cars
Speaking of Simpsons, I ain’t even mention 3 bars
In morning time, my dick be hard
No rehearsing with that verse
You can get this shit free of charge
And i hope that’s not what she thought
And he called for a cheap price
And she saw him for like 3 nights
And she robbed him but, he in love
Now he heartbroken, his girl
Finna have a baby, bout’ the only nigga he ever trusted in the world
He disgusted, she got knocked over, he was locked up
She ain’t stay down, he got busted
That money short, she ain’t come to court, he got nothing
At last, fuck the world, that bitch was safe
Homie tryna fuck your girl, they hating on her for no reason
They land on them, they scheming
Insane on ‘em, they demons
I’ll take one of them beamers gotta flex mine
You know my goals set high
And I stay down, I stack that money chest high
Despite me flexing hard they
Can’t question god find myself asking

I don’t know why the fuck, you staring at me like I’m strange
I don’t know why the fuck, I’m worried about what I say
I don’t know why, my partner trippin’ I’m still the same
3 words, 1 question
I don’t know why
I don’t know why
I don’t know why
I don’t know why, she trying to lock me down like it’s cuffing season
I don’t know why them niggas thinking they can fuck with me

I don’t know why
I don’t know why
3 letters, 1 question
Rich Homie baby
I am, R H Q

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