Writing On That Wall

I was on the way to ATL, I got stopped
I was riding with my Cali plates I got hit by the cops
And he say he smell a weed smell, told me get out
I was sweating knew I fucked up should've went a different route
I can't really say much else because the case still open now
Got fucked up down there in Mississippi but I'm bonding out
I got out and sold a watch and now I'm up 100 thou
Fuck these rappers fuck they talking bout? They don't be flipping pounds

I was writing on that wall
Shout out to Gucci
I think I was born to ball, and fuck these hoochies
I can make a couple calls, get my trap booting
I'm a real trapper dog, my line go stupid
I was writing on that wall
Shout out to Gucci
I think I was born to ball, and fuck these hoochies
I can make a couple calls, get my trap booting
I'm a real trapper dog, my line go stupid

Soon as I bonded out, I hit the road then grabbed a FN
Flipped a couple shhh, now it's back to gettin racks in
Thinking bout when I had me a M, but that shit past tense
Them pigs done flicked me up but I ain't telling where my stash is
Still getting to it, still getting to it
Still getting to it, still getting to it
Still getting to it, still getting to it
Still getting to it, still getting to it
Even after all this shit I still ain't snatching off my tints
I ain't tripping bout that jewelery I was born to bust my wrist
I ain't tripping bout these charges, know my lawyer beating this
I ain't tripping bout this money, and I ain't worried about a bitch

I was writing on that wall
Shout out to Gucci
I think I was born to ball, and fuck these hoochies
I can make a couple calls, get my trap booting
I'm a real trapper dog, my line go stupid
I was writing on that wall
Shout out to Gucci
I think I was born to ball, and fuck these hoochies
I can make a couple calls, get my trap booting
I'm a real trapper dog, my line go stupid