R.N.F.
Chip

[Intro: Chip]

You know

You know it's crazy when you have Deja Vu

Like once a month


[Hook: Jeremih]

Yeah

Can't remember what the Hell I did

Or how the Hell I got here

But all I know is niggers wanna talk

Cause the baddest bitches round here


We ain't going nowhere,

Going nowhere,

Here for ever

So fuck what they say,

No, we don't play

Real niggers for ever (for ever) x3


[Interlude: DJ Drama]

Chip, let 'em know


[Verse 1: Chip]

Pour me another shot I'm in the zone

Came by myself but I ain't leaving on my own (nahh)

Loving it in places I'm ashamed to say I go

In the strip club trying to find the next Amber Rose

The higher goes my salary,

The lower goes my sanity

I'm puffing on this blunt

Got me battling with gravity

Find myself catching feelings,

I destroyed them

Cus' most these girls I'm fucking got a boyfriend

I'm going in,

I'm going in,

I'm going in (Yeah)

London Boy in town you know I do my fucking thing

Ciroc for my niggers

Champs' for the bitches

Can I get a witness

But there ain't no love for snitches

It's the life I want to live until im buried

Number of girls I don't count on too many

But time moves on,


But people don't change

Can't remember last night,

I bet tonight will be the same (for real)


[Hook]


[Verse 2: T.I.]

Hey

Sucker niggers be hating

But fuck it, I get money though

Honey blonde rolls

Roller-skating with a bunch of hoes

He ain't the hustle,

I don't give a shit about it

Probably catch me rollin' or mallin',

Menagin' on a friday

All we do is party,

Keep it real with niggers

Who dun' kept it real since niggers

Was sharing buffalo wing dinners

Whats the definition in the wing-winners

Can police just keep a pussy

Which I have been with her

You see the King with her,

Then praying he ain't hit her

We G-D-O-D

We M-O-D

My niggers green-getters

You throwing money

All she want to do is roll the L

Then pop a pill

While I beat it till' that pussy swell

They want me back in jail

Ain't doubt I'll hate her for you,

Cus I'm playing with bout' fifty mil

Kick that flavour to ya' (uhh)

You don't like it do ya'?

Still the fact remain,

Hustle Gang, Real Niggers

Some things never change.


[Hook]


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Lyrics by Chip

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