Trollz

Album: Tattle Tales (2020)
Charted: 12 1
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  • (Sad Pony)

    Watch, mhm
    Glock, mhm
    Cocked, mhm
    Got it, mhm
    You need that? I got it
    This cash in my pockets
    The 'Cat one hundred
    You need that? I got it
    Need it, got it, cash, pockets
    Bands on me, sticks on me
    You need that? I got it
    This cash in my pockets
    The 'Cat one hundred
    You need that? I got it

    Yeah, she like how I throw them racks
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
    Keep on throwin' that cash
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
    Keep on throwin' that ass
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
    Benz truck in the back
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

    I know you don't like me, you wanna fight me
    You don't want no problems at your party, don't invite me
    I don't worry 'bout you niggas, please stop talking 'bout me
    Always talking 'bout me 'cause you looking for the clouty
    6ix-nina, the 9ine-nina
    Riding in the two-seater with two ninas
    Baby got that Aquafina, it's cocaina
    Smoking on that OG reefer, no TMZ-a
    Forgiatos on a Benz truck, make her friends fuck
    Told her she could get Chanel if she let my friends fuck
    Stars shining in the Rolls Royce, it got red guts
    Wait, hold up, nah, I still don't give a fuck
    Vroom, vroom, G5
    Vroom, vroom, we high
    You the type of nigga that I never wanna be like
    You the type of bitch that will never get a reply
    Hi, hater, bye, hater, vroom

    And, she like how I throw them racks
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
    Keep on throwin' that cash
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
    Keep on throwin' that ass
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
    Benz truck in the back
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

    Boomin' at your man, now we boomin' at his matas
    Split his fucking wig, bust it open like piñata

    He tryna put it en mi culo, real fat gato
    When he eat it, I tell him to squeeze it like a taco
    All my niggas out of town, moving all that blanco
    I ain't letting up on you bitches say "uncle"
    Still the baddest bitch, quarantining en mi casa
    Talking all that shit, but you bitches ain't saying caca
    Uh, a flock of birds, waka
    All my bitches pretty, juicy booty, pretty knockers
    Yeah, eat it, Cookie Monster (ooh)
    He a slave to this pussy, call me master
    Real wet, I said, "Slurp it like it's pasta"
    They get nervous when it's Nicki on the roster (rrr)
    Somebody usher this nigga into a clinic
    My flow's still sick, I ain't talkin' a pandemic
    I write my own lyrics, a lot of these bitches gimmicks
    They study Nicki style, now all of dem wan' mimic
    Talkin' 'bout snitches when it's snitches in your camp
    Never stand alone, you always itchin' for a stamp
    Me, I'm still money, wrists light up like a lamp
    They gon' have to send they best fighter for the champ

    And she like how I throw them racks
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
    Keep on throwin' that cash
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
    Keep on throwin' that ass
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
    Benz truck in the back
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

    Watch, mhm
    Glock, mhm
    Cocked, mhm
    Got it, mhm

    If he like, I throw it fast, real fast, fast, fast
    He singin' my old song, yellin', "Ass, ass, ass"
    They be speedin', tryna beat me, then they crash, crash, crash
    Still a hundred like the number on my dash, dash, dash Writer/s: Aaron Clarke, Andrew Green, Daniel Hernandez, Jahnei Clarke, Jeremiah Raisen, Onika Maraj
    Publisher: CREATE MUSIC, Globaband, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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