T R I P - Champagne (feat. Swish)

Yeah, Keep on pausing ima’ hit play
I got all these bitches kneeling im they sensei
Lookin at me well you better look the right way
Like champions we poppin’ bottles where the champagne
In my campaign you a damn shame
Hit it like I’m rampage to yo’ damn brain
You are just a damn lame no you can’t hang
Hanging with the dope boys who be screaming gang (Gang)
Bounce back make that ass clap
I like, tennis girl you show me them racks
Gotta’ lotta’ cash know you wanting that
If I, give it too you ima need it back
Uh, give you a lone then leave me alone
I’m not trynna’ do that shorty I don’t need the phone
Rolling up another cone that’s gonna’ leave me stone
And this shit bangs this ain’t no metro (Oh)
Two step on the beat, don’t sleep
Working hard going hard all week sheesh
Shout out too my brother Reece
Yeah, we always in the streets
We ain’t Kodak but we always roll in peace
Don’t shoot I ain’t trynna be rude
It’s my color so you prolly think I’m cruel oh
Bounce out and my homies go too
We ain’t trynna turn it up like GoKu oh
Don’t miss taking shots don’t sip aye
Get a zip then I smoke it with my friends aye
Want a Benz I’m a diamond you a gem
Shit it’s 2020 we can get this shit poppin’ again
Yeah, Keep on pausing ima’ hit play
I got all these bitches kneeling im they sensei
Lookin at me well you better look the right way
Like champions we poppin’ bottles where the champagne
In my campaign you a damn shame
Hit it like I’m rampage to yo’ damn brain
You are just a damn lame no you can’t hang
Hanging with the dope boys who be screaming gang (Gang)
Pull up in a foreign make it dash like
yeah
Fucking on that bitch make her splash, splash, splash
She look like Nicki all that ass, ass, ass
Money coming in yeah, I like my cash fast
Boy you so broke they should put you in a cast
Bottles steady poppin’ like my effin’ when it blast
When I shoot my shot I don’t miss Steve Nash
When I shoot my shot leave his brains on the dash
Yeah, I’m with Trip that’s my motha-fuckin’ brother
Got me fucked up if you think that you gonna’ touch him
I grew up a bastard yeah, word to my mother
Ain’t a damn thing you can’t tell me bout’ the struggle
Shawty hit my DM, yeah, I met her on the gram
Hit her on the cam did it for the only fans
Heard what I said let me fuck her on the camera
Bend her over crush it looks a kool-aid jammer
Yeah, she from the hood but that bitch still boujee
Cops pull me over put the work in her coochie
I don’t served more O’s then a Krispy Kreme
Try me you get smoked like a stick of nicotine
Skert, skert, skert
Yeah, Lightning McQueen
Got these hoes on me but I ain’t Charlie sheen
Stretch it out wide screen
Ima’ put it in her spleen
Bounce out keep it g like style trampoline
Yeah, Keep on pausing ima’ hit play
I got all these bitches kneeling im they sensei
Lookin at me well you better look the right way
Like champions we poppin’ bottles where the champagne
In my campaign you a damn shame
Hit it like I’m rampage to yo’ damn brain
You are just a damn lame no you can’t hang
Hanging with the dope boys who be screaming gang (Gang)

Written by:
Christerfer Jones III, Justin Wischer

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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