Tris The Kid - Plans

Odd Future looking dapper
Sure you got the hoodie but you don't know any rappers
What
You can be the candy to my wrapper
'Cause you're acting all sweet and shit
And then you throw me out to call me after
Aftermath, call me trash, laughing gas, it'll pass
I'd write you off the wall but these my only vans
Ya bitches barely legal and just made an OnlyFans
To strip down your cap and gowns, were those your only plans?

Fuck a college man I'm on a different pattern
I already found my calling call me artist not a rapper
(But I'm not a rapper)
Don't hate on anybody searching weary for the answers
Could you be in different chapters not the happy ever after yet
And I don't really know if I could make it to the end
But if I do I guess will see you around the bend
He said we ain't making it past 21, that's the trend
Juice said we ain't making it past 21, that's the end

But I gotta be odd to be number one
Under the sun felt like a troubled nun in front the gun
Bouta meet God for once in time for lunch
No one to trust but the ones disperse the funds
Mothers fathers and daughters and sons are on the run
The slums moonshine and rum to stuff the gums
Soak up the sponge to numb the mind of love
Stomach the chum so listen for the trumpets and the drums

Cheese with Yums pulled out of the dumpsters
Lyrical soul food to feed the youngsters
Stumbling upon the struggle of love
It's trouble but we still rise out the rubble, fuck
Keep it humble but we grinding on the double
Bouta rumble breaking out the duffel bag
And point the muzzle get the shovel
Gotta muscle through and buckle up, huddle up
Chuck a luck and when I make it big
You know we'll knuckle up

Written by:
Tristen Conde

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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