Boomshakalaka

Boomshakalaka （沙卡拉卡）（）-Starlito /Don Trip

Pull up shooting yeah I clutch .30's

Just like Curry but my cup dirty

I'll shoot a ni**a like Future ni**a

When Young Metro say you ain't trustworthy

Does that make Trip Klay Thompson

In the kitchen like Action Bronson

Racks on me like I'm Blac Youngsta

I'm an All-Star with cash money

NASCAR full of fast money

I f**k a b**ch for her tax money

My bread dirty like Murphy Lee

But I'm Marshawn Lynch if you at me something

I'm so cold I need a space heater and a pair of mittens a chinchilla

Left hand shooter like James Harden

But I'm good with the right like Quentin Miller

Blade sharp as a potato peeler

My clip long enough to say No Limit

My babies even like balling out they say Daddy's pockets got play dough in it

This my real life man it ain't no image

All these rappers with the same ol'gimmicks

Talk that talk but they don't live it

We the Dream Team '92Olympics

Pistol on me like I'm Pete Maravich

Shooter like I'm Peja Stojakovic

You would think I play for Gregg Popovich

Moral of the story you ain't robbing sh*t

Strapped like I'm ready for an apocalypse

Two percent tint on my rocket ship

Beam on my bit'with a carbine kick

And a clip longer than a f**king hockey stick

Two 9's on me I'm Jermaine Gretzky

Ten pounds of sour that's a power play

Tryna get a check and stay out the penalty box

I've been grinding 48hours a day

I can eyeball it and tell you how much it weighs

Sell you dry wall and tell you Have a nice day

On the Eastside that's the games we play

But I've been trying hard to stay out of the way

I know some bad b**ches that'll lie to your face

Tell you that they love you then send my guys to your place

Naaah and they don't bake

Them niggas coming for them pies and that cake

And all they wanna know is the time and place

Money in the picture I'ma find a way

I checked my schedule my time is great

It's pay day it's my kind of day

I'm back in the b**ch like I moved away

Laughing at the b**ches that I used to date

B**ch told me to buy her a Gucci bag I told her

Shut the f**k up like Juicy J

This hoe must be hallucinating

I'd rather throw all my loot away

I'd rather burn all the cash I got if I tricked I'd never recuperate

I'd be somewhere in the ICU

Breathing through a muthaf**king oxygen tube

Craig like Craig what happened to you

I'm dying cause I bought some b**ch some shoes

They lie so often I get confused

I'm on my grind yeah my office is my kitchen too

Everybody with me tote my b**ches too

You might get hit six different tools

A .45a .40Glock 9FN five seven and a couple Mac 11's

Overnight trip yeah we still pack the weapons

Though we might trip extra clips for protection

This ain't what you want but that's just a suggestion

Make it out alive even if I get arrested

Tell a hundred lies but I won't give a confession

I could teach a lesson on discretion Lito