Don't Trip (feat. Dougie B & Chii Wvttz)

(Glo made that beat?)

Tell brodie, "Don't run, don't trip," like (Don't trip)
Every time I see the opps on clique (Grrah, grrah)
Don't try to run, you can get hit, like
Call up bro Kay, got a beam on his grip (Grrah, grrah)
We spin, two-tones in the whip
Like, gotta stay safe, bro can't get clipped (Grrah-grrah, boom)
Bullet holes feel like jelly-drip (Gang)
Like, YGK, y'all ain't never do shit (Gang-gang-gang)

They scream, "Don't run" (Don't run)
And they saw, when I come, I yell, "Don't trip" (Don't trip)
I'ma click, don't miss (Don't miss)
Don't spin in them tints
Them shits get flipped (That shit get flipped)
C-Hii said, "What you gon' do with the witness?" (What?)
Nigga, they gettin' clipped (Nigga, they gettin' clipped)
Nigga, we spinnin' on feet, we don't need no V
So once I boom, better dip (Better dip)
I could call Gotti or Notti or Scottie (Scottie or Notti)
I call Gotti for addys and thots (Facts)
I know Notti gon' flock so I keep him beside me (Uh-huh)
I know Scottie still movin' too hotty (Grrah-grrah)
He be fiendin' and itchin' to catch him a body (Like, grrah)
He gon' post up and smoke in your lobby
He said, "Kay bro, I'm good, got this knock right beside me"
Dougie B like D Brady, no Tommy

Like, bro in the field, tryna catch him a homi' (Grrah-grrah)
We spinnin', we smokin' on Lotti (Gang, gang)
Red beam, green beam, we movin' oppy (Look)
Like Swervo gon' flock at your mommy (Your mommy)
We smokin' that Dummy, that Matt and that Lotti (That Lotti)
Like, spin through the 8, they don't try me
They chat on the 'Book and they say they gon' find me (Find me)
Like, you could get left in the lobby (The lobby)

Baby, we can be Whitney and Bobby (Lotti)
Or we can get gritty, like Keisha and Tommy (Keisha)
With or without you, I'm catchin' a body (Brrt)
She wanna fuck, don't touch this masi' (Baow, baow, baow)
And these demons keep talkin' to me
They like, "Dougie walk up, you can't dump out the V" (Don't)
Spin through the 8, put that boy on a tee (Like, what?)
Hollows hit his silly, pop him, make him geek

I told Dougie, "Just chill, don't dump out that V", like
"Park up the whip, let's go creep"
Why they runnin'? Only let off three (Like, grrah)
Spot his man, he right across the street (Grrah-grrah)
Hollows hit his body, make him geek (Geek, like)
Geek, make him tweak, like (Make him geek)
Hit him across the street
Don't got the gun, that's on bro he get



Credits
Writer(s): Kevin Perez, Damien Beepat
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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