[Intro]

Traphouse mob

[Verse 1: Kwengface]

No hook

Tell a man, yo, what's good

Hit up the strip in my Tino's

Did drills in my Adidas boogs

Don'look

We got all of the opps dem shook

Smash that light by night

So you know more food got cooked

Now why the opps dem stressed

Cah none of us man been stretched

Whip that skeng though, a man endo

That is a quick AM

And a word to Snoop

Who the fuck you cheffed?

Yo, Daqwan got bored in his arm real quick cah the boy tried to cover his neck

Ben got cheffed, dad got cheffed

And all now none of them step

How many times have we lurked with shanks in hands tryna leave a man red

I might put this cutie in Gucci if she holds this skeng (come 'ere)

Chris brownin' with a fat back, come to the zones and bring your friends

I'm in the next space that's kway that's prof

I'm with a peng ting in my hotel room and the peng ting givin' me top

No Van Gogh, man paint man's top

I'm in Pecks moving low from cops

Nah I can't flip this flop, no

I swear that the grind don't stop

[Verse 2: PS]

The opps dem know and the thots dem know

I just shout Chin for a ball, we all kick ball

You know we ain't pro

I still gotta shout Face for them boots

Bruce back out the pumps on volts

D9 or S9 with Zone, hitters, ridin' come let's go

On the table shanks or poles

I'm down at the door, a bunch of crow

Hotel I'm on floor 30

Who else wan' be hero

I am a villain, I ain't no Joker (no way)

Life gamble, casino

Fix up their face I'll back out my poker

Or put coins in a machine yo

Dem man are chiefs, I call them Sosa (eergh)

Switch it, I watch a paigon vid, like, I got that paigon chinged

Oh shit, bruce got the same one too, zoo

We do outrageous things

No 9 to 5 ting, I ain't on mining

So I don't know what my paigons is

You done run from the great, grey whip

You would've though they was slaves and shit

Shit, I got a snap from ML, but all we talk is wins

Hospital bed I was sore and shit

After that all I could talk was sins

How many man have I bored and shit

I swear to God, man, I've bored as shit

How many man have I bored and shit

I swear to God, man, I've bored as shit

[Verse 3: Trizzac]

(Trizzla)

Bare times I've run him down

I don't know how he don't have athlete's feet

They don't wanna meet and greet, but, on socials wanna give cheek

Sawn off and mask, tryna break man's heart

Like his girlfriend goes and cheats

On the ride let me take my seat

Dots come old like Bas and Pete

15 inch in jackets

I done did this, I don't need no practice

K2 turned him packets

Two man up we don't need no batches

4-4-2 that's tactics

See all the chest shot, Lord that's classic

Dot dots same size as a blanket

They know gang for rolling with gadgets

I done put blades through fleshes

And I done see legs do stretchers

I just had to bad up one cat

'Cause I told her I don't send text's

Samurai sword my fetish

One shot make that opp boy perish

Still servin' no tennis, menace

Dem man Cedars like lettuce

I ain't ridin' with no satnav

But you'll get touched from my GPS

Splash man down with no regrets

Then, leave him all depressed

Duck-duck-goose, take man's food

There's no time to go digest

Look far but I had to redress

Thought we was friends, ching his chest (Judas)

[Outro]

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