All Night Flights
Certified Trapper
3:06Nigga hatin' on me 'cause I knocked his bitch Wide grin with this auto fully Drac', you niggas not on shit Spendin' all my credit card, nigga, I'm on my role model shit Man, I just need some Wocky, fuck about a gold bottle, bitch Nigga hatin' on me 'cause I knocked his bitch Wide grin with this auto fully Drac', you niggas not on shit Spendin' all my credit card, nigga, I'm on my role model shit Man, I just need some Wocky, fuck about a gold bottle, bitch I just need some Wocky, fuck about a gold bottle, bitch Ayy, you ain't even know I got smack, on my Rocco shit Bitch, you ain't even know I got back, fuck a Pota', bitch Fuck my whole career, I'll slide and then fry your shit He ain't hurt nobody, that nigga not on shit Yeah, I got the hoes on my body, bitch apocalypse Smoke a nigga, call the fuckin' pack zotty It ain't a time that I let shit stop me I'll drink some Wocky, fuck about that gold bottle, bitch On Explore page, lookin' at this old model bitch Sneak dissin' me on the issue, oh, that's a bitch Brick after brick after brick, my El Chapo shit Spin ASAP, rocky road on some Flacko shit Trapper got a fully, that's a hungry hippopotamus My eyes land on an opp, I'm fuckin' up the road, no Providence I make the chopper twerk, bottoms up until it's bottomless He an opp, I'll make him sit down, I watch the opposite The opps airborne, I made 'em fly away, Lenny Kravitz Ever since I started, it's been crunch time, Chris Travis Tossed a gun inside the North Atlantic like I never had it All they do is tell tales and tuck 'em too, Peter Rabbit She named my D James, when she comes around, it harden He bustin' out the whip, them boys rude, I beg your pardon I'll put a bag on your head, you drive a hard bargain Livin' life like la vida loca, I'm not Ricky Martin She said, "Jit, you him," but I'm a dreidel, those are not the pronouns Me and Mo recordin' in your city, we ain't signed to Motown She gon' make it boom-de-clap-de-clap, she do the Hoedown Throwdown Bitch, I feel like Kesha, yelling, "Timber," it's about to go down This shit get deep, leave 'em purple, I want smoke up on the water Finally, I got the drop and I'm about to meet my stalker I'm in the trees, I'm makin' sure that they get low like Will's daughter I dropped a bag in Boca, I don't know the value of a dollar And she gon' make it clap like them beats from Milwaukee I made a mill', you the feds, grab a walkie-talkie It's spelled the same, for Pete's sake, I'm sippin' sake They done kicked me out the Wharf, now I'm fuckin' up the Roxy Salty-ass jit, that boy a saltine cracker Omega-3 rifle up in the 37 Raptor You could call it, "Kosher Certified," but I be with them smackers Mix the song and bounce that shit real quick for me, I'm 'bout to send it back to Trapper