Patek Lyrics – Rio Da Yung OG

[Intro]
(Ooh, s*it, that’s a Danny G beat)
Yeah, phew
(Elijah)
Gaffle, M.I.N.E

[Verse]
Chrome Heart ‘fit cost me sixty bucks
I’m rich as fu*k, I don’t give a fu*k
Send me the contract so I can rip it up
I ain’t got on contacts, I see clear as fu*k
Stop walking with your head down, you gotta lift it up

Took your b!tch to Ruth’s Chris, got her chicken stuffed
Turnt s*it’ll pull up in a Escalade pickup truck
You ain’t seen this, I don’t need Trish
I got a pint of Quagen and a three of red
Get him a hot dog bun, he a weenie man
If you think your baby daddy having pape’, I’m extremely rich
That s*it kinda embarrassing
I wanna drop another tape, hit Harrison
You will never see Rio in no flare pants
I’m only smoking on desserts, not no Airheadz
But shout out my n!gga Wakko
Call me YeYe, I’ll get to acting like a a$
You know that I’m strappеd like a a$
This n!gga jumped into thе heat and got his ass smoked, yeah
I sold five pounds of that ice cube, you could ask Roach
Everything funny now, I get the last joke
I be running up my M’s, what you gon’ laugh for?
I don’t— I don’t really take s*it serious
L-look at my ears, they six carats
In each one
It’s a switch on each gun
And a thirty clip
Matter fact, he got a bun on that four-fifth
Bring the yellow tape out ’cause we rope s*it
He sneak dissed me on Facebook and got his ho hit

I ain’t even see the s*it, but lil’ bro did
I got a lot of money on me, why my clothes big
He could snort a whole ounce ’cause his nose big
You can’t even beef with me, you ain’t got no crib
Like, how the fu*k we gon’ go to war and you ain’t got no bread?
You know, the money win all battles
The b!tch held me down, she got a small Patek
They finna let me out the crib, finna ’cause static
The Glock go brrt-buh-buh, fully automatic
The shotgun is just automatic
I just said some real s*it and I caught you laughing
The b!tch got a attitude, so I’m mad at her
Shout out my n!gga baby bruh, I’m a broke ba*tard
Stand over n!ggas’ body, give ’em closed caskets
I got so much dog s*it, I need a clothes basket
B!tch got to yelling, acting so dramatic
All I know, a n!gga got smoked, but I don’t know what happened
Yeah, I bought a pint of red ‘fore I went to sleep and I woke up happy
You gotta grab a TRX, you can’t go Chally
My b!tch made me mad, I’m finna go to Cali
I’m finna go Patty, I’m finna go platty
I really want the s*it, did the store have it?
Snap my finger and he disappeared like I know magic
I just said I don’t wanna do this s*it, don’t mean I don’t have it
You know I got gaffle
You know I got a bank account with a lot of commas in it
You know I hit a b!tch with my—
You know I had to hit a lick when my mama with me