歌词
Oh oh, oh oh
Yeah yeah yeah
Oh oh
DrumGod
I'm tripping hard cause my n*gga gone
And everyday it's getting worse
My brother died on a Sunday
A day he should've been in church
When I'm not in the trap house
I was whippin' up the work
On the block with them Glocks out
We might put them on a shirt
I'm tripping hard cause my n*gga gone
And everyday it's getting worse
My brother died on a Sunday
A day he should've been in church
When I'm not in the trap house
I was whippin' up the work
On the block with them Glocks out
We might put them on a shirt
Swear to god I never pay for a shooter
Free my dog, lord knows I can't lose you
They said thirty-million dollars, you a new you
It's a ly, man the money made me coo-coo
Hits in the streets like a billboard
Street money, n*ggas will kill for it
Baggette AP, I payed a deal for it
500 K, this the big boy
I heard you seen an Opp, and you froze up
Me, I got the Drake in the Roles' trunk
Soon as I send the Tech, know I rolls up
N*gga got beef, know I showed up
I never forget the sh*t that OG n*ggas told me
Reppin the rap game cause these corporate n*ggas owe us
Keepin' it gangsta, n*ggas know we the culture
RIP Sausa, we lost a soldier
Pack came on a monday (Straight up)
Feds busted on a Tuesday (Hell)
Nobody knew that the pack came, n*gga
But my boy bossin', they confused me
He switched up once the money came
That's the quickest way to lose me, abandon him
They only coming when the beef on
I think these n*ggas tryna use me
I'm tripping hard cause my n*gga gone
And everyday it's getting worse
My brother died on a Sunday
A day he should've been in church
If I'm not in the trap house
I was whippin' up the work
On the block with them Glocks out
We might put them on a shirt
I'm tripping hard cause my n*gga gone
And everyday it's getting worse
My brother died on a Sunday
A day he should've been in church
When I'm not in the trap house
I was whippin' up the work
On the block with them Glocks out
We might put them on a shirt
Rest in peace to my dead homies, I be singing them sad songs
I just be rollin and geekin these mad strong
I get high till I head home
I remember them days we were doing them dead wrongs
Boy you best keep your head on
But I thinkin' 'bout that's a red zone
I got a few packs, put my mans on
I learned how to trap, I was hands on
Moved the keys for the first time
I'm a young Stevie Wonder
I swear to god man, this life wanna make you wonder
Brotha got the chopper, bet he make it stutter
Glizzy on me I been slanging bricks and butter
And I'm from the streets, so I had to pick the gun up
You can't cross me, shawty cause I'm always one up
My dogs working hard till the sun up
How you change on your mans, you so dirty?
Bro don't tweak with the clan we tote 30's
I told momma ya boy a man, so don't worry
Only put my trust in these bands, they won't hurt me
Only smoking exotic gas, my eyes blurry
I just poured a 4 with my mans, so I'm slervy
I just did the digital dash, so I'm swerving
I just had a talk with my mans, hope he heard me
I'm tripping hard cause my n*gga gone
And everyday it's getting worse
My brother died on a Sunday
A day he should've been in church
When I'm not in the trap house
I was whippin' up the work
On the block with them Glocks out
We might put them on a shirt
I'm tripping hard cause my n*gga gone
And everyday it's getting worse
My brother died on a Sunday
A day he should've been in church
When I'm not in the trap house
I was whippin' up the work
On the block with them Glocks out
We might put them on a shirt
专辑信息