23RcB - 12 Hr Trip

I was raised in that one shit
You know the rest
I been that nigga
I got destined for greatness carved in my flesh
These niggas sick
Said what I was gone do and then I did it
The bread I give my lawyers got cases gettin acquitted
I'ma big boss
Deal in stick talk
Chop make you crip walk
A young supplier
Try to run off and get yo life bought
Three bows broke down to three fives
I made yo Bitch do it
Don't hit my phone if it ain't bout bread I speak that shit fluent
Hood nigga turnt entertainer that's what I'm on
I'm too thorough never do no lil freaky shit for no pros
Never ratted on my mans
Testifying on no stand
White sticks like the klan
Keep the blow like a fan
Tied in with the mob
I heard they found him in a van
He ain't comin outside
He traumatized from the lead
Street sign got teddy bears
He damn near finna come fed
A while ago he was a savage nigga shakin his dreads
Aye
Pressure on don't think lil bro can handle that
Played it crazy threw a clean up party down at Saks
Get some pape you rather trip about A rat
Running plays catching bags Warren Sapp
On I94 with a trunk full of bows
On souls finna play it so cold in this Bitch
God forbid if a nigga get flicked on
That road on bro
I don't know a soul In that bitch
Two hoes in a rented tahoe switch
Plates just to stroll
You bet not try to fold in this bitch
When a nigga make it home
Yea best believe its on
Finna up sloppy roll off A twelve hour trip
Aye
Ima let my nuts hang
Take the harder way
Check me I can cook it in the pot or use the microwave
I'm sauced up stacking stupid pape
Its car notes putting fits together gotta hundred on my back a couple on my waist
A thousand for my jeans a half of stack for what be on my feet
My pockets so obese you poor as fuck and continue to speak
Shut the fuck up I ain't tryna hear it
Yeah you got the mains on but you got them off clearance
We ain't in the same league
Touch the same cheese
Hit the same freaks
Bitch you ain't me
Yea I know you wanna be but that shit dead
The only place you really verified is in yo head
I'm young and wise I been knowing
Got hella zips I been blowing
Raised around the white it been snowing don't sip lean but my cuz pouring
Custos I got those from contraband and shoe stores I'ma big boss like Caine hoe
Y'all lil niggas just gustos
Y'all lil niggas hella lame and I peep it
You think them frames and them chains got a meaning
A lame is a lame it don't matter how you clean it
You just food without the seasoning and my niggas still gone eat it
On I94 with a trunk full of bows on souls finna play it so cold in this bitch
God forbid if a nigga get flicked on that road on bro I don't know a soul in that bitch
Two hoes in a rented tahoe switch plates just to stroll you bet not try to fold in this bitch
When a nigga make it home yea best believe its on finna up sloppy roll off a twelve hour trip
Aye

Written by:
Bre'Aire McWilliams-Hamilton

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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