Lyrics Trojan - Chief Keef, Tadoe

Trojan

Bands all fill my pockets, bitch I’m stuck in my glory
Copped a Porsche Cayenne and then I stuck it on forges
Sipping all this drink like we just got it imported
Smoking on your rent and bitch I’m sipping your mortgage
What it is
Don’t play with me, play with your kids (aye)
Accelerate, my shit wiggle like a little fish
Let em hate, stop acting like a little bitch (aye)
The shit we tote play longer tape on Datpiff
Sosa, niggas hoes, give em ass shots
In the field posted on the bad block (aye)
In the spot, we got mad Glocks (aye)
Niggas softer than a mascot (aye)
Hit the lean than I snoozed off (aye)
Red beam your nose, call you Rudolph (aye)
Don’t make us push your cushion, you’re too soft (aye)
Your bitch got up on my stage and got boo’d off
You know you ain’t trapping hard as me lil nigga (aye)
You know I am who you wanna be lil nigga (aye)
I’m rolling hard up with my teeth lil nigga
Dirty-thirty clean shit up like beach lil nigga
Niggas out here faking (aye)
And I just want the cake bitch and
My daughter want a bracelet (aye) so I just got to face it (aye)
Roll up a blunt and then I don’t eat
That is for the moment
For the money, I’ll postpone it
We warriors, no trojan
My ice like police, it’ll freeze a nigga
Got me cole like Keisha, nigga
Now I’m colder than a pizza nigga
Fresher than a kid on Easter nigga
My bitch be mad I can’t reach her nigga
With a bitch more yellow than Lisa nigga
In the trap lil boy I’m your teacher
Then smoke a pound for no reason
Starring like she ain’t never seen a star
700 horse, you ever seen this car
Fuck A’s and B’s, we wanted A’s and R’s
Never let a ride hoe paper dawg
Grand hustle, we on our paper trail
In lower Kane Leaving tire trails
Please don’t make us start burning shit cause we love how that fire smells
Glory boys they up to something
You already know we bumming
Checks keep coming, steady thumbing
My niggas ain’t for nothing
Tripping over designer, Im so clumsy
Going off the wall like Humpty Dumpty
They tryna give me life they gotta chase me
If you want me to show up you gotta pay me
Remember when I couldn’t even afford a Tracy
Now every fucking blunt be a Tray, see
Put the Glock in the middle your eyes and your McGrady
And after you go through them you gotta face me
Niggas out here faking
And I just want the cake bitch and
My daughter want a bracelet (aye) so I just got to face it (aye)
Roll up a blunt and then I don’t eat
That is for the moment
For the money I’ll postpone it
We warriors, no trojan (aye)