Trippin

****

Yeah

Yeah

Uh, I got racks stuffed all in my jeans now

I got big plays, I can run a mean route

I ain't never been no lame ass ****, I'ma pop it

I'ma run routes and catch the ball like DeAndre Hopkins

Read up with the plug, got it all off today

Got my wrist all in the bowl like I'm eating Frosted Flakes

I ain't have to go to McDonalds, I'm ridin' with a ten-piece chicken

You say, "Money ain't everything," I say, "That **** there trippin'"

****, my hood, full of dope cookers (****)

Blue-faced Carti', full of nose boogers (Bling)

Gucci down, head to toe, goggles just the match (****)

I be pullin' up in a "what-kind-of-fuckin'-car-is-that?"

Remember I ain't have no money, and them **** laughed at me

Now I stay with dog shit like I'm Craig daddy (****)

Only way I lay down, ****, yeah

Only way I lay down, ****, is if the feds catch me

I'll beat the fuckin' bowl into that lock the way I need

I'll beat the fuckin' road till I put that bitch to sleep

This is Merc City, I'm throwin' up, but I got brothers that Z

And I'm screamin', "Free my ****," till they let my **** free

I got racks stuffed all in my jeans now

I got big plays, I can run a mean route

I ain't never been no lame ass ****, I'ma pop it

I'ma run routes and catch the ball like DeAndre Hopkins

Read up with the plug, got it all off today

Got my wrist all in the bowl like I'm eating Frosted Flakes

I ain't have to go to McDonalds, I'm ridin' with a ten-piece chicken

You say, "Money ain't everything," I say, "That **** there trippin'"

****, my hood, full of dope cookers

Blue-faced Carti', full of nose boogers