Gustavo (feat. Almighty Trill)
Trill in this bitch, it's a freezer, fucked your bitch, she a eater
Fuck a line, I'm the leader, you pouring lines, we pouring liters
How you ballin' from the bleachers
Talkin' money, I'm a teacher, still pay me for the features
I be ridin' with the Reapers, rockin' thousand dollar sneakers
Smokin' cookies from the valley, this new Gucci, not the Bally
Met a lick right in the alley, yeah, I pulled up in a chally
Niggas pockets looking childish and they bitches get the wildest
When I'm steppin' in a thousand, spend the sixty on some watches
Poured a four up in the pop and I just got back from the doctor
Paid lawyer, beat the case, I move like Ghost, I call him Procter
Got a bitch, she lookin' foxy, she was gone, off them Roxy's
Four forty-eight, yeah, I got it through the mail
And I'm servin' licks with no scale Too many blues, I can't sit in no cell
Can't trust a soul, cause that shit lead to L's
Niggas washed up, lil' pussy, get your guap up
Hit his top guns, cause he doin' too much talkin
If it ain't a dub or better, please don't call me
Normally wait, lil' nigga, yeah, you just caught on a faucet
Bally bags filled with plenty belts, I got options
Pass that bitch to bags, yeah, we call it Blue Dolphin
You barely seein' chicken, lil' nigga, heard you walkin
Push start whips, lil nigga, where your chicken
Heard you had brick fare, lil nigga, but you lost it
Gotta move cautious, the way that we ballin
Fuckin' different hoes, I got options
Take off like a rocket, lease a couple racks when I'm shoppin
If that bitch fit, I'ma cop it
I don't fuck around with that cop shit
Pop a lil' perk, now I'm cautious
Pop another perk, now I'm nauseous
I be rubbin' shoulders with the bosses
Watch the double crosses
Now I'm back when we done took too many losses
And I got power with this chop, it hit many man
223's and forty bullets slide out that minivan
Red and blue tips, go through whatever whip you in
Worrying about these bitches, lil' nigga, where your guap at
Bustin' off the Yerky, play around, you get shot at
Say he big boss, but got a boss, how you call that
Blowing up her phone, I picked it up like she gon' call back
Got her eatin' dick in a whip, ridin' with the mag
I got bitches tellin' me I'm it, this is not tag
Seein' green numbers like the Matrix, I can do the math
How you do me dirty, now I'm up and I got you mad
Yeah, that shit got you mad
Damn, I got big bags
Damn, bitch I got big cash
Fuck a line, I'm the leader, you pouring lines, we pouring liters
How you ballin' from the bleachers
Talkin' money, I'm a teacher, still pay me for the features
I be ridin' with the Reapers, rockin' thousand dollar sneakers
Smokin' cookies from the valley, this new Gucci, not the Bally
Met a lick right in the alley, yeah, I pulled up in a chally
Niggas pockets looking childish and they bitches get the wildest
When I'm steppin' in a thousand, spend the sixty on some watches
Poured a four up in the pop and I just got back from the doctor
Paid lawyer, beat the case, I move like Ghost, I call him Procter
Got a bitch, she lookin' foxy, she was gone, off them Roxy's
Four forty-eight, yeah, I got it through the mail
And I'm servin' licks with no scale Too many blues, I can't sit in no cell
Can't trust a soul, cause that shit lead to L's
Niggas washed up, lil' pussy, get your guap up
Hit his top guns, cause he doin' too much talkin
If it ain't a dub or better, please don't call me
Normally wait, lil' nigga, yeah, you just caught on a faucet
Bally bags filled with plenty belts, I got options
Pass that bitch to bags, yeah, we call it Blue Dolphin
You barely seein' chicken, lil' nigga, heard you walkin
Push start whips, lil nigga, where your chicken
Heard you had brick fare, lil nigga, but you lost it
Gotta move cautious, the way that we ballin
Fuckin' different hoes, I got options
Take off like a rocket, lease a couple racks when I'm shoppin
If that bitch fit, I'ma cop it
I don't fuck around with that cop shit
Pop a lil' perk, now I'm cautious
Pop another perk, now I'm nauseous
I be rubbin' shoulders with the bosses
Watch the double crosses
Now I'm back when we done took too many losses
And I got power with this chop, it hit many man
223's and forty bullets slide out that minivan
Red and blue tips, go through whatever whip you in
Worrying about these bitches, lil' nigga, where your guap at
Bustin' off the Yerky, play around, you get shot at
Say he big boss, but got a boss, how you call that
Blowing up her phone, I picked it up like she gon' call back
Got her eatin' dick in a whip, ridin' with the mag
I got bitches tellin' me I'm it, this is not tag
Seein' green numbers like the Matrix, I can do the math
How you do me dirty, now I'm up and I got you mad
Yeah, that shit got you mad
Damn, I got big bags
Damn, bitch I got big cash
Credits
Writer(s): Gregory Bufford
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.