Lyrics Rylo Rodriguez – Walk In

Cook That Shit Up Quay
Run That Back Turbo

I ain’t dead, I ain’t in jail safe to say I beat the odds
I was walkin’ in the rain tryna make it to my car

Tennis chain blangin’ with a pendant cause I’m ice box
I been gettin’ faded, poppin’ pills like a white boy
Super freak, lowkey, mind her business just my type
Super high and super fly I’m floatin’ like a kite
Went from L.A,then to Vegas, then Miami in one night
If they catch you out in traffic they gon smoke you at the light
When it’s pressure it’s on sight
My word is bond, just get it done, then I pay the price
I’m livin’ one hell of a life
Sometimes I don’t sleep at night
I stay up and think about the shit that I been through
Woke up this morning and went and bought a Benz coupe
It’s feelin’ like I need a threesome baby bring your friend too

I ain’t dead, I ain’t in jail safe to say I beat the odds
I was walkin’ in the rain tryna make it to my car
I put ice on all my watches for the times that it was hard
My momma caught me with a pistol whipped me with a extension card
Puttin’ designer on my shoes no more walkin’
Just be naked when I get there I’ma walk in
We gon’ get straight to the point, ain’t no more talkin’

Rylo:
Cee died in bricks 12 hit ’em up with a stick
Too much drink man had surgery but he still pourin’ up
Can’t believe Margo told Duke, thank God it hit ’em with a split
2:30 at Thad house pray the bit gon’ get hit
8th grade Booker T. Jimmy had ounces in the locker
Microwave or go stove I ain’t tryna ease no prosper
Tyrone got kilt when he was tryna see more dollars
Strapped down and ask God why the hell they took my partner
Granny tried to throw my stash away so many times
Hot days in the jects we were flyin’
Tyshun died in a wreck but Geico couldn’t help the stress
Boy I rather keep payin’ a junkie and that junkie my uncle, he just tryna get a rock and we was just tryna hit the block

I ain’t dead, I ain’t in jail safe to say I beat the odds
I was walkin’ in the rain tryna make it to my car
I put ice on all my watches for the times that it was hard
My momma caught me with a pistol whipped me with a extension card
Puttin’ designer on my shoes no more walkin’
Just be naked when I get there I’ma walk in
We gon’ get straight to the point, ain’t no more talkin’
Give you everything I got, I’m goin all in