| Song | Ric Flair |
| Artist | Cashis |
| Album | The Art Of Dying |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| I’m stepping in the mother****in driver’s chair (I get grips yea like Ric Flair) | |
| And these suckas tryina ride and so we die in there (I get grips yea like Ric Flair) | |
| I’ve been stuntin 7-5 thousand diamonds clear (I get grips yea like Ric Flair) | |
| You ain’t no gangsta, you’s a mother****in | |
| Ron my playa (I get grips yea like Ric Flair) | |
| Been moving weed, state to state | |
| Spittin flows, getting cake | |
| ****in hoes, get plenty face | |
| My friends say | |
| I’m a mental case | |
| My bitch sayin | |
| I leave er | |
| And she gon give me a bigger case | |
| She know where the shotties and a bunch of ****in bodies lit | |
| Natural pullin struttin bitch, | |
| I’ll be getting money | |
| If a sucka try and punk me, | |
| I’m bombing – no introductions | |
| If these homies try and brush, | |
| I chop it, get off and run it | |
| I grew up in the 90’s, | |
| I keep me from frontin | |
| With a 6th sense, money power get that | |
| I’m livin the thug life | |
| I’m rolling to them big stripes, big stacks, go like | |
| I’m pitch black | |
| I take er for the night and after that you get your bitch back | |
| Well she won’t let you get that | |
| I’m stepping in the mother****in driver’s chair (I get grips yea like Ric Flair) | |
| And these suckas tryina ride and so we die in there (I get grips yea like Ric Flair) | |
| I’ve been stuntin 7-5 thousand diamonds clear (I get grips yea like Ric Flair) | |
| You ain’t no gangsta, you’s a mother****in rhyme my playa (I get grips yea like Ric Flair) | |
| I hit 22 gun shots to niggas who love cops | |
| Them picking up people in mug shots | |
| I’m on my grind (I get money, big money), | |
| Yea, I’m on my grind (I get money, big money) | |
| I hit 22 gun shots to niggas who love cops | |
| Them picking up people in mug shots | |
| I’m on my grind (I get money, big money), | |
| Yea, I’m on my grind (I get money, big money) | |
| Roll out! | |
| It’s bread over everything, you get your money – let it be | |
| Life is just a felony, at least that’s what they tellin me | |
| G code, I live it to the letter like it’s spellin | |
| B One foot in the grave, still the bury me a ****in | |
| G I’m stepping in the mother****in driver’s chair (I get grips yea like Ric Flair) | |
| And these suckas tryina ride and so we die in there (I get grips yea like Ric Flair) | |
| I’ve been stuntin 7-5 thousand diamonds clear (I get grips yea like Ric Flair) | |
| You ain’t no gangsta, you’s a mother****in rhyme my playa (I get grips yea like Ric Flair) | |
| Halla at them | |
| G Wanna make some money man | |
| Let’s work for real bread man, not paying man | |
| You work with me | |
| Ric mother****er | |
| Flair nigga |
| I' m stepping in the mother in driver' s chair I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| And these suckas tryina ride and so we die in there I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| I' ve been stuntin 75 thousand diamonds clear I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| You ain' t no gangsta, you' s a mother in | |
| Ron my playa I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| Been moving weed, state to state | |
| Spittin flows, getting cake | |
| in hoes, get plenty face | |
| My friends say | |
| I' m a mental case | |
| My bitch sayin | |
| I leave er | |
| And she gon give me a bigger case | |
| She know where the shotties and a bunch of in bodies lit | |
| Natural pullin struttin bitch, | |
| I' ll be getting money | |
| If a sucka try and punk me, | |
| I' m bombing no introductions | |
| If these homies try and brush, | |
| I chop it, get off and run it | |
| I grew up in the 90' s, | |
| I keep me from frontin | |
| With a 6th sense, money power get that | |
| I' m livin the thug life | |
| I' m rolling to them big stripes, big stacks, go like | |
| I' m pitch black | |
| I take er for the night and after that you get your bitch back | |
| Well she won' t let you get that | |
| I' m stepping in the mother in driver' s chair I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| And these suckas tryina ride and so we die in there I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| I' ve been stuntin 75 thousand diamonds clear I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| You ain' t no gangsta, you' s a mother in rhyme my playa I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| I hit 22 gun shots to niggas who love cops | |
| Them picking up people in mug shots | |
| I' m on my grind I get money, big money, | |
| Yea, I' m on my grind I get money, big money | |
| I hit 22 gun shots to niggas who love cops | |
| Them picking up people in mug shots | |
| I' m on my grind I get money, big money, | |
| Yea, I' m on my grind I get money, big money | |
| Roll out! | |
| It' s bread over everything, you get your money let it be | |
| Life is just a felony, at least that' s what they tellin me | |
| G code, I live it to the letter like it' s spellin | |
| B One foot in the grave, still the bury me a in | |
| G I' m stepping in the mother in driver' s chair I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| And these suckas tryina ride and so we die in there I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| I' ve been stuntin 75 thousand diamonds clear I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| You ain' t no gangsta, you' s a mother in rhyme my playa I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| Halla at them | |
| G Wanna make some money man | |
| Let' s work for real bread man, not paying man | |
| You work with me | |
| Ric mother er | |
| Flair nigga |
| I' m stepping in the mother in driver' s chair I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| And these suckas tryina ride and so we die in there I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| I' ve been stuntin 75 thousand diamonds clear I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| You ain' t no gangsta, you' s a mother in | |
| Ron my playa I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| Been moving weed, state to state | |
| Spittin flows, getting cake | |
| in hoes, get plenty face | |
| My friends say | |
| I' m a mental case | |
| My bitch sayin | |
| I leave er | |
| And she gon give me a bigger case | |
| She know where the shotties and a bunch of in bodies lit | |
| Natural pullin struttin bitch, | |
| I' ll be getting money | |
| If a sucka try and punk me, | |
| I' m bombing no introductions | |
| If these homies try and brush, | |
| I chop it, get off and run it | |
| I grew up in the 90' s, | |
| I keep me from frontin | |
| With a 6th sense, money power get that | |
| I' m livin the thug life | |
| I' m rolling to them big stripes, big stacks, go like | |
| I' m pitch black | |
| I take er for the night and after that you get your bitch back | |
| Well she won' t let you get that | |
| I' m stepping in the mother in driver' s chair I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| And these suckas tryina ride and so we die in there I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| I' ve been stuntin 75 thousand diamonds clear I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| You ain' t no gangsta, you' s a mother in rhyme my playa I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| I hit 22 gun shots to niggas who love cops | |
| Them picking up people in mug shots | |
| I' m on my grind I get money, big money, | |
| Yea, I' m on my grind I get money, big money | |
| I hit 22 gun shots to niggas who love cops | |
| Them picking up people in mug shots | |
| I' m on my grind I get money, big money, | |
| Yea, I' m on my grind I get money, big money | |
| Roll out! | |
| It' s bread over everything, you get your money let it be | |
| Life is just a felony, at least that' s what they tellin me | |
| G code, I live it to the letter like it' s spellin | |
| B One foot in the grave, still the bury me a in | |
| G I' m stepping in the mother in driver' s chair I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| And these suckas tryina ride and so we die in there I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| I' ve been stuntin 75 thousand diamonds clear I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| You ain' t no gangsta, you' s a mother in rhyme my playa I get grips yea like Ric Flair | |
| Halla at them | |
| G Wanna make some money man | |
| Let' s work for real bread man, not paying man | |
| You work with me | |
| Ric mother er | |
| Flair nigga |