Fine/The Come Down Pt 2 (July)

[Verse 1: Robb Bank$] Yeah, Yeah, shoutout to them Flatbush fuck niggas too Meech is dead too, that little Aladdin lookin' ass nigga Fuck boy, I told you my shit right And ho suck my fucking dick Cause bitch I ain't never been a fucking lick for sipping drank Cause I serve it for them posers up on the strip And I quit my job so I can rap, ain't have enough sick days for this trip Quit popping jiggas' cause my plug told me if I sell em' I could make brick Copped a cannabis card from the A-A bitch yeah the one in the leotard So me and my trendy bitch gon' get trippy once I get her ass this green card I left some work with my dog in that 7-5-4 Ain't bout' killing a pussy nigga since Lansky got roped Bitch you still selling weed I'm bout' to start selling clothes And my mind ain't been the same since Miguel ain't make it home And bitch I'm sitting on some bricks why you think I got three piggies in my cribby? And these bitches going in heat when they peep that Rottweiler Givenchy So on my leper scale I'm weighing grams to put in this Dutch Master You try to be Taylored with them papers, watch them burn faster So you better shotgun or you ain't finna' get your turn after Well I light my blunt with the flame, while niggas gay laughing [Hook] And bitch I'm straight I don't mind cause bitch I'm high, yeah I'm high Take one hit then get fried but bitch I'm fine, yeah I'm fine So pick me up bitch take a photo, ask questions like you trollo And we only breath that octane That's the motto nigga W.O.B.O Screaming W.O.B.O. yeah we blowed, yeah we turnt', yeah we high Look at my eyes bitch I'm fried But I'm still fine, I'm still fine Still finer than your bitch, yeah I'm fine, yeah I'm fine I bet yo bitch wanna ride yeah I'm fine, yeah I'm fine, bitch [Verse 2: Robb Bank$] Got a Range Rover, or a Rolex, or a Timex, or an x5 Or an I.S. and a time piece that ain't worth naming cause you ain't know who it's by And you hate cause I ride slow Full of Tussionex and that lemonade And I Easter pink cause it change colors when you twist mellow yellow all with the drank And I don't even much give a fuck I check the months that come on my planner So in spring I'm in Trinidad fucking bitches dressed in feathers Still in my black Supreme Thrasher never dress for the weather bitch at all I'm in a limo bumping Rich Hill in the fall Now all I need is Aaliyah and them Tommy jeans overalls up in this bitch So I can spike her Coco Loso with Actavis And I touch off honeyberry in the Everglades, call that a Backwood Left some green giant in that container, could call that canned goods Re-making Kim K exposed but it's finna' star Ashley And G.D.P. on the prescription bottle that's a hashtag Bitch I'm in that new S-class in Opa-Locka blasting Jodeci Cuban link, Raf Simons, OV where the A supposed to be [Hook] [Outro: Robb Bank$] Lil' bitch Xan with that lean is the combination And her breast augmentation on the 25th is the inspiration Haha, bitch! Where my niggas at, where ya' bitches at? [Verse 3: Matt Meyer Lansky]