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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rio Da Yung OG
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
DWAYNE WILLIAM MOORE II
Songwriter
Damario Donshay Horne-Mccullough
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Wayne616
Producer
Lyrics
(It's a Wayne beat)
What up, Wayne?
Yeah, you might hear a Scatpack or somethin' in the background
'Cause we outside with this shit, literally, ayy
Don't turn the lights on, I got my ice on
Don't turn the lights on, I got my ice on
In the spot with a zip of dope 'til the hype's gone
On the Eastside with a strap gettin' ice gone
Don't turn the lights on, I got my ice on
Don't turn the lights on, I got my ice on
Ironic how my niggas sold a B off an iPhone
You ain't gotta turn the lights on, I got my ice on
Know my chains dancin'
Bitch, I got my ice on, why you starin' at me?
Went to Gary, gave him twenty-five, we was both happy
Ugly nigga, VVS's on, and my fro nappy
Forty thousand on me, lookin' so chubby
Got it hangin' out the pocket, torch on mе, nigga, don't grab it
550 coupe, it's a 4matic
Five hundred for a linе of Wock', I'm a dope addict
You ain't gotta turn the lights on, I went to Golden Sun
392 Durango in the hood, this the only one
Twenty racks cash, that's for Cass, that's my only son
Don't try to go to war with us, that lil' Draco your only gun
Don't turn the lights on, I got my ice on
Don't turn the lights on, I got my ice on
In the spot with a zip of dope 'til the hype's gone
On the Eastside with a strap gettin' ice gone
Don't turn the lights on, I got my ice on
Don't turn the lights on, I got my ice on
Ironic how my niggas sold a B off an iPhone
You ain't gotta turn the lights on, I got my ice on
You ain't gotta turn the lights on 'cause I'm very icy
Don't ask to hit my cup, this bitch very pricey
When he got codeine in his system, that's when Jerry nicer
Ten 'bows of cavities, I gotta meet Barry Friday
He threw 'em from LA, I hut-hut, 42, Jerry Rice 'em
Niggas wonder what my chains cost, go ask Gary nicely
Thirty pointers in the link got me skateboarding, Flint crisis
Neck full of aqua, but I hate water
Brodie sold me four ounces of Wock' for eight and a quarter
Dope fiend, I been drinkin' lean since eight this morning
Pockets stuffed, I'm never hungry, I ate this morning
Baby Ghost pulled up on me 10 a.m.
With two straps like I ate this morning
Only made seven racks, I hate this morning
Plus my lawyer called me with a court date, I might break this morning
Cooked a zip of dope, took it to the fiend like, "Break this for me"
So many up and downs when you rich, make me hate this money
Aw shit, that's just my chains movin' 'round again
Just got some old J's from 58, I'm finna move around with them
I might pull up with an FN, shootin' out a fin
We don't hate, but if you ridin' twenty-eights,
We might shoot at your rims
Don't think we finna ride around with K's, boy, I shoot at brims
'Nother hundred pounds of cavities, we flew that in
Your bitch keep complaining 'bout her back 'cause I blew that in
You ridin' 'round with a hundred hundreds, I been blew that ten
Hit the corner in the Trackhawk, they like, "Who that is?"
Bitch, I ain't goin' back and forth with you, I used to shoot at kids
Yeah, Ghetto Boyz shit, nigga
I can't turn the fuckin' lights on 'cause I got my ice on
That's disrespectful
So if you see me in this bitch,
Don't turn the lights on, 'cause I got my ice on
If the club close, don't turn the lights on, 'cause I got my ice on
And you hear my chains talkin' in the back, nigga
And I did this shit outside, man
Ghetto Boyz shit, we run the world
Goddamnit
Thirty racks on me, goddamnit, in the hood
In my pajamas, nigga ain't gon' touch me, you know what I'm sayin'?
Free the whole ghetto, y'all know what the fuck goin' on
We did this shit off the br— off the mic, nigga
Off the mic, nigga, not the white, nigga
We don't sell drugs, bro, we sell punchlines and bars
I'm finna go sell an ounce of rap right now
Fuck is you talkin' 'bout?
Writer(s): Damario Horne Mccullough, Dwayne Moore Ii
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