Trap Money (feat. Li Rye, Sett) E

I still got trap money and source than this Rap money. If I'm being honest, murder ain't love. Keep it three hundred, them niggas gonna die 'bout That money. Running with jackers, certified smasher. Don't get wrapped like mummy. Adding 'em up, lay your bushes, Nigga. Monday through Sunday, can't crook, you Sliding for nothing. Mask down, shots'll be hot for The summer. Get up in line, you niggas be Runners. Try and book crook, better come with some Commas. This shit better come up in bundles. Promoters be tripping, they lie, we go bump 'em. Send a blitz through venues, all they know is Thumpin'. Three hundred, doing shit, I ain't give 'em a number. head was hard as a bitch, So I went and got me a glizzy and Put it to work. Ain't worried about no nigga Stepping on me. He play wrong in this bitch And I'm uppin' it first. I don't need no Switch. I go spin with this semi and make This bitch shoot like a bird. Hair tally, that Bitch in a hearse. These niggas be trying to Be friendly. They be giving they hair ten for A verse. I'm big twenty-six, I hop out with A stick. Better stay out the way or get Hit in the face. Ain't no competition with these Niggas. And I don't take 'em serious, they look At this shit like a race. Bad bitch gonna eat the dick off the rip. I leave blues on a nigga, might think I'm A Crip. Catch me lacking, I'm uppin' that bitch Off the hip. Throw a four, tell a dying Nigga shout out to Flip. I still got trap Money and source than this rap money. If I'm being honest, murder ain't love. Keep it three hundred, them niggas gonna die 'bout That money. Running with jackers, certified smasher. Don't get wrapped like mummy. Adding 'em up, lay in your bushes, nigga. Monday through Sunday, can't crook, you sliding for Nothing. Mask down, shots'll be hot for the summer. Get up in line, you niggas be runners. Try and book crook, better come with some commas. This shit better come up in bundles. Promoters be tripping, they lie, we go bump 'em. Send a blitz through venues, all they know is Thumpin'. Three hundred, doing shit, I ain't give 'em a number. Recorded in New York, raised in Atlanta, but from Alabama. From the six to the M, retire like a Monster and move to Miami. My bitch in a Lamb' and my jit in A Porsche, you can't buy a Camry. Mr. Davis know Sammy, new all-white Bentley, yeah, That's for the nanny. So icy, the family so Icy, the gang so icy, the mob so icy. The label, this ain't no facade, this shit like A job. When times were hard, we stole, We lied, we had to rob. Mama tried to tell me right from wrong, my Head was hard. Potato on barrel, Dent your shit in. What spot you flexing, my Little niggas run in. Crook shit, nigga, I done Turned to a trend. Leave runner, snatch it again. Murder love, that what they spin. Hair tie, hair tie, burn 'em again. Trying to boost the rank, 'bout that money. Opposition never wins. Number pinned, Drake fully F&N. Been that block, number fans. Trying to put something in the wind. Hawk down, get your man. 17 on my back, I don't bend. Triple cross for that three, all in. Concrete from the bricks locked in. I still got trap money and source than this Rap money. If I'm being honest, murder ain't love. Keep it three hundred, them niggas gonna die 'bout That money. Running with jackers, certified smasher. Don't get wrapped like mummy. Adding 'em up, lay in your bushes, Nigga. Monday through Sunday, can't crook, you Sliding for nothing. Mask down, shots'll be hot for The summer. Get up in line, you niggas be Runners. Try and book crook, better come with Commas. This shit better come up in bundles. Promoters be tripping, they lie, we go bump 'em. Send a blitz through venues, all they know is Thumpin'. Three hundred, doing shit, I ain't give 'em a number.