Rich The Kid – “Real Boss” [Audio, Lyrics, Video]

Date 2021-04-27

Category Foreign Music, Lyrics, New Music

American rapper, Rich The Kid quickly resurfaces with the visual for “Real Boss” featuring Jay Critch & Skillibeng. Watch the video, listen, stream, buy, read the lyrics, mp3 download.

Rich The Kid Real Boss

Rich The Kid Real Boss

Tagging in mid-verse, Jay Critch stands tall as a welcome addition to the mix, and his presence may very well have played a role in keeping Rich on his toes. While neither party serves to push any new lyrical boundaries, their chemistry is a welcome callback to the days of Rich Forever, and it should be interesting to see where the pair go from here. Rounding out “Real Boss” is Skillibeng, who holds it down for Jamaica with a slick and charismatic closing verse.

Rich The Kid – Real Boss (ft. Jay Critch & Skillibeng)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sYF6242xQoE

Lyrics

[Intro: Rich The Kid]
Yo, Alvero
Yeah

Yeah

[Chorus: Rich The Kid]
Fuck me like I’m a real boss (Yeah)
Bought a Forgi’, my wheel cost (Yeah)
Top shotta get you knocked off (Yeah)
Fuck around, knock your block off (Yeah)
Two girls come, tap me out (Yeah)
Hundred racks, I fucked that up (Yeah)
Maybach gon’ drop me off (Yeah)
Just a million dollars in the loft
Yeah, pull up the big mansion with the shottas
She was a chicken head, I told her, “Gobble”
Ride in the backseat with the chopper
I’m smoking up the pound like the roster
Kick a bitch out the crib like soccer
Bet you, my shooter pull up in a Honda
Bet, you ain’t knock it off for a hundred
Big rubber, young nigga get blinded

[Verse 1: Rich The Kid & Jay Critch]
Big mansion, but my bitch got money
Me a big boss, pull up and stunt
Why he cappin’? He ain’t got no hundreds
I was smokin up the pound, I’m blinded
That’s a drug, chop a hole in the hundred
Niggas fakin’, I’ma keep it a hundred
If you talkin’ ’bout my city, we running
Call the shooters, make the pussys start running
Smoke out the pound, used to go sell an onion
You better get low, my niggas coming
It ain’t calypso when we start drumming
I got a rich ho’, I’m in her stomach
You niggas really ain’t talking ’bout nothin’
Keeping it with me, I dare you to try shit
These niggas safe in the hole, they sidekicks
I’m talking money and they get it silent

[Chorus: Rich The Kid]
Fuck me like I’m a real boss (Yeah)
Bought a Forgi’, my wheel cost (Yeah)
Top shotta get you knocked off (Yeah)
Fuck around, knock your block off (Yeah)
Two girls come, tap me out (Yeah)
Hundred racks, I fucked that up (Yeah)
Maybach gon’ drop me off (Yeah)
Just a million dollars in the loft
Yeah, pull up the big mansion with the shottas
She was a chicken head, I told her, “Gobble”
Ride in the backseat with the chopper
I’m smoking up the pound like the roster
Kick a bitch out the crib like soccer
Bet you, my shooter pull up in a Honda
Bet, you ain’t knock it off for a hundred
Big rubber, young nigga get blinded

[Verse 2: Skillibeng & Rich The Kid]
[?], I pick my money (Nah)
[?], skip me all the hundreds (Yeah)
Fuck dem gyal (Yeah)
Shoot me [?] in that tummy (Tummy, you say)
(Brr-brr) Yeah, she bust it (Bust it, yeah, yeah, yeah)
She suck my dick that might fuck it
Don’t try me, [?] thottie (Thottie)
[?]
[?] go make them drop it, [?]
Lock, knock a piece of a bloody (Bloody)
Oh, we have the power like Sonic (Sonic)
[?]
[?] dem girl, ah, suck off my cock-y (Yeah)
Suck me, get all the [?] (Yeah)
The proteine shake weigh our bodies
[?] sloppy (Sloppy)
Shit, momma bust like [?]
[?], yeah, I’m a killer (Yeah)
Roll up like Armadillo
Build some blunts weh bigger than cigar (Yeah)

[Chorus: Rich The Kid]
Fuck me like I’m a real boss (Yeah)
Bought a Forgi’, my wheel cost (Yeah)
Top shotta get you knocked off (Yeah)
Fuck around, knock your block off (Yeah)
Two girls come, tap me out (Yeah)
Hundred racks, I fucked that up (Yeah)
Maybach gon’ drop me off (Yeah)
Just a million dollars in the loft
Yeah, pull up the big mansion with the shottas
She was a chicken head, I told her, “Gobble”
Ride in the backseat with the chopper
I’m smoking up the pound like the roster
Kick a bitch out the crib like soccer
Bet you, my shooter pull up in a Honda
Bet, you ain’t knock it off for a hundred
Big rubber, young nigga get blinded

[Outro]
I like that, what?
I– What?
I like that, what?
Oh, hey, what?
I like that, what?
I– What?
I like that, what?
Oh, hey

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