R.i.p. (remix) Lyrics - Young Jeezy

R.I.P it's the remix, killer 

Mike Jack was alive, I'd remix Thriller 

Trap star, bitch, spell it with a big T 

Give a damn if I never be a hot MC 

Cause I'm a hood nigga, first on everybody's list 

Buy the whole club P, don't fuck with no Cris 

That average ass watch can't fuck with my wrist 

Them average ass hoes can't fuck with my bitch 

To the window, to the motherfuckin' wall 

Enough money in my jeans to buy a motherfuckin' mall 

Got the choppas in the back, bulletproof, that's my Hummer 

R.I.P. to the competition, this is my summer 

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R.I.P I wanna kill the judge 

Tryna lock the homie up, they don't feel the thug 

I'm thirsty, but I don't give a fuck 

Fuckin' with my ex cause I'm still in love 

I can teach you how to fuck and how to stack money 

I ain't went Hollywood, you just act funny 

But I know you want this pipe like a crack bummy 

Stop playin', I'm tryna hit like a crash dummy 

Don't start no shit, it won't be no shit 

I can't take yo bitch if I don't see yo bitch 

We done seen that snow, Nat Geo bitch 

Cancel her and get another like I'm Nino bitch 

R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P. 

R.I.P. we just killed the club 

Drank patron to the head, almost killed a thug 

R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P. 

R.I.P. we just killed the club 

Drank patron to the head, almost killed a thug 

Photos 

Turn up in bitch shit and I'm beamin' and shit 

Hundred hoes, hundredfold, this my season and shit 

Stomach on belly roll, bitch I'm eatin' and shit 

You a vegan and shit, get off my penis and shit 

Look a bad bitch, I back that bitch nigga back back 

Pull it out the grab bag, turn this ho to Baghdad 

Bags on my eyes, I don't sleep much, we up 

Bitch I beat the beat up, the homies get you beat up 

And R.I.P to p-nut, little [?] 

Mausberg, 4 Bent, Compton I live that 

Long hair weave with extensions 

Glock 17 with extension 

Bumpin' Suga Free in the automatic dually 

T.V.'s in it like it's '97, watch a porno movie 

Holla Chitty Chitty Bang, this is Com-Town gang 

Fuck whoever don't like it, lil' K-Dot be the name 

R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P. 

R.I.P. we just killed the club 

Drank patron to the head, almost killed a thug 

R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P. 

R.I.P. we just killed the club 

Drank patron to the head, almost killed a thug 

R.I.P. to the V.I.P. 

I got my lil' niggas in the club, fuck I.D. 

My niggas kill at will, give you black eyed peas 

And the molly make the white girl look Chinese 

Always Bre, my niggas out here ballin' 

And all these fake ass artists, y'all niggas out here drawin' 

Ok now dearly departed I bought a plane, I departed 

And if you started from the bottom gon' and come out the closet 

You problematic, I bought them rachets and automatics 

Clip hold 32, I make you feel the Magic 

You gon' see the flashes, like you in a pageant 

All black suits, and them long Caddys 

R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P. 

R.I.P. we just killed the club 

Drank patron to the head, almost killed a thug 

R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P. 

R.I.P. we just killed the club 

Drank patron to the head, almost killed a thug 

R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P. 

R.I.P. we just killed the club 

Drank patron to the head, almost killed a thug 

R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P. 

R.I.P. we just killed the club 

Drank patron to the head, almost killed a thug