EST Gee – Riata Dada Lyrics
Riata Dada Lyrics By EST Gee
Real street niqqa, 5500 made man, yeah
I’m the real thing
Legend of Riata Dada, came up sellin’ Hank to weed
I can’t make no opps not just look dead, but I can make ’em bleed
Paper right and I ain’t fightin’, you in a gunfight with a steak knife
Call his lawyer, you need helicopters tryna stop us ’cause I’m gon’ yank, right?
When I move, it’s a chopper scene like the opera, I send a bit-h niqqa to the doctor
I was tryna stop you, but all that sh!t you pop make it impossible
Guccis on me, semi spit like a run-on sentence, it ain’t no comma
If I wasn’t this, then I probably been done signed with DJ Drama
But I’m thuggin’ and I’m shinin’, f–k with coke, I roll with Gotti
When he met me, I had sixty, all fifty stuffed in my pocket
Before I signed it, me and all my partners, diamond chains and watches
We like mobsters, only difference, we sip syrup with our pasta
Aim is true, he’s clocked in, I watched brethen drop it, then he locked it
Pay him whack his partner, niqqas snakes, but I’m an anaconda
I make sure that’s proper, way more with the cut, it ain’t Hydroxy’
But I made it, mama
Couldn’t save you first, you know I’m sorry
This sh!t hypnotized me
Only thing excite me is a body
He be acting c0cky like we ain’t shoot at him when he’s with his mama
This a blackout, give you to my lil’ partner, he flip niqqas’ Honda
Niqqa coolin’, we done mucked they shooter, fvcked up they lil’ roster
I was nappin’ chronic ’til I got a book, I’m hooked on phonics
I’m a Fendi scholar, hit it two, three times and it’s still proper
Get that strong white, call this batch a boxer, Ivan Drago
Did I really leave the streets alone to rap? I ain’t decided
Hit your partner top, he squirmin’ just like fishes outta water
I ain’t got advice, just hit the trap and pray you make it out it
I had sleepless nights, can’t let ’em sneak me twice, I gotta watch ’em
Get a move, turn off your phone, we finna slide, pop my yopper
They be wildin’ ’til we hit they blocks, then niqqas playin’ possum
Niqqas bold like we ain’t takin’ souls and puttin’ ’em with my mama
And don’t pat me at no shows, I got my gun and I get hot there
I’m from Louisville, where we wet our Blacks and sip raw out the bottle
I don’t care how much he did, he rat, he do not get acknowledged
I’m the same niqqa used to play pitch back, talkin’ with Fat Chris on Redondo
Now I’m twelve floors up with a thick slut getting my d–k sucked in a condo
5500 made man
EST, Big Gee, ni–a
You hear this sh-t, ni–a
Real street ni–a, you know
Play me like no rapper, jump off stage on one of you ni–as