| Yeah, trust my word
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| Trust Gang, nigga
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| Spesh
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| Yo, uh, yo
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| They say don’t respect the one that gets shot, respect the nigga that shot him
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| I respect the nigga that sent him to handle the problem
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| Ex-bitch said she pregnant by me, now she screamin' child support
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| Man, this bitch hate me, I feel lit, she 'bout to wild in court
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| I ain’t payin' you shit, just bein' honest
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| Bitch, I sell dope, what wages they 'bout to garnish?
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| I do this for the hustlers that get in the zone from us
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| Every time I re-up I get a new phone number
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| You ever been in a drought, told the plug you need pounds?
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| Then he pull up like, «This the only thing I found?»
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| Open up the bag, everything brown
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| But you gotta take it, it’s the only thing 'round
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| Big brother caught an attempt, but he still smile
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| And they gon' give him 18 if he blow trial
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| Life hard, I’m doin' everything I can, Lord
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| I ain’t evil, I’m just tryna pay my landlord
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| Might lie to myself, say I don’t need much
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| I’m fucked up, I’ll be good when the P’s touch
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| I got myself in the illest situation
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| And I never froze, I’m good with those, I never hesitated
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| See I been cruisin' 'round the city in them foreigns lately
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| Dealin' with Spesh, T, and Philly got me more angels
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| Get a Rollie on my arm, Cuban on my neck
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| Foreign for a car, hundred thousand for a check
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| If a nigga gotta ride, then I’m sendin' clips
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| If not I’m with TCI poppin' big shit
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| Spending benjis on pennies with Benny
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| Act silly, get them semis, call up Nitty, huh
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| Call up Wire, that’s the hit-up, let him fly out
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| Then the pass, go to class, then we divin' 'cross the pylon
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| TCF, Trust Gang, yeah, that’s who they got they eye on
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| It’s our year, y’all wack, fuck bygones bein' bygones, trust
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| Hand on my gun, other hand on the wheel
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| Make a perfect right turn while I’m blammin' the steel
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| My uncle had to show me how to handle a scale
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| 'Cause my pops never taught me how to handle the pill
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| I came off the porch early, I was caught dirty
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| Now I’m boss-worthy and my main broad curvy
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| Ridin' back home, the trunk of my car dirty
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| It’s noon, I’ma make it back by 4:30 (Almost home)
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| Hustlers runnin' in (In), J’s runnin' out (Out)
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| And we never hit you if you came unannounced
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| That’s your lil' bitch but I slang out the house
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| I starved while she survivin' off the change out the couch
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| Back then you probably could’ve caught me whippin'
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| Sweatin' over the stove in a foggy kitchen
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| Marina dog food when my squad get mentioned
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| I traded in my spoon for a coffee blender, nigga
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| Yeah, ho, I never take an L
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| Plug cross country, I just wait for mail
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| Dope so good that it could take a twelve
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| Fiend tried it and went straight to Hell
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| Y’all niggas snakes, y’all can’t wait to tell
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| Half ass waitin', had to make a sale
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| Work so heavy, it could break a scale
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| So much coke that I could make a trail
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| You made a sale, you was facin' 12
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| Told on your man and you escaped from jail
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| 38 Special, it was made to kill
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| Leave the crime scene and take the shells
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| Loose lips sink ships, afraid to sail
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| Get low, my hoes say I’m aging well
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| She drove the bricks in a gray Chevelle
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| I bought her a bag, it was fake Chanel
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| And she walk around like she bougie
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| I live life like I should write the movie
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| Broke ass nigga still lightin' loosies
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| Goin' half on dimebags like the Looneys, uh
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| You niggas never had to fight
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| You ain’t killin' nothin' with your gun, you bought it for braggin' rights
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| Got it for an average price
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| I’m married to the white girl, that bitch is a bad wife |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Trust Gang , by - 38 Spesh. Song from the album 38 Strategies Of Raw, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп