Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Tables, artist - Joey Trap. Album song Stackin P's, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 11.03.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Kloud Gang Entertainment
Song language: English
Tables |
Man you boys can’t even sit with us, stupid |
You dumb ass niggas |
You really thought — |
You really thought you could sit with us, stupid |
Nigga look at my shoes |
These is Louboutin’s, nigga |
Young Rich Squad, man you boys can’t even sit with us |
Said he fly as me, boy, you must be smokin' angel dust |
New block blower, pull up on you, finna paint you up |
I get legal money, I don’t fuck with all that shady stuff |
Hit 80 bands off the rap like last week |
Pullin' out the burner, now he runnin' like an athlete |
I don’t wanna squabble, get the burner to your ass cheeks |
Stupid ass nigga thought he finna get a pass, B |
Never let a nigga act rowdy, that’s a bitch move |
Niggas really stalking on my gram like my bitch do |
I won’t never sell another gram I make rich moves |
If I go broke I’ma get it out my bitch shoes |
Walk to imperial and back, lil' baby |
You ain’t even wild, bro, stop acting crazy |
Fuck your pussy, give me dome first |
Brodie at your crib with that led, call that home work |
Find out when you sleep, then we run up with that chrome burst |
16 bars in this chop, like a long verse |
Been on the block, finna ball like it’s cancer |
Said that I’m broke, shake my head get your bands up |
She wanna fuck, LOL, that’s my answer |
If bro hit the lick, then we both got that hammer |
Young Rich Squad man you boys can’t even sit with us |
Said he fly as me, boy, you must be smokin' angel dust |
New block blower, pull up on you, finna paint you up |
I get legal money, I don’t fuck with all that shady stuff |
Hit 80 bands off the rap like last week |
Pullin out the burner, now he runnin' like an athlete |
I don’t wanna squabble, get the burner on your ass cheeks |
Stupid ass nigga thought he finna get a pass, B |
Never let a nigga act rowdy, that’s a bitch move |
Niggas really stalking on my gram like my bitch do |
I won’t never sell another gram I make rich moves |
If I go broke I’ma get it out my bitch shoes |
Walk to imperial and back, lil' baby |
You ain’t even wild, bro, stop acting crazy |
I remember I was broke, I ain’t have none |
Now my fit is all designer in this Aston |
Martin in this bitch, I’ma kick her out like Pam son |
All these niggas want my sauce, nigga, y’all like plankton |
Broke where bitch? |
This ice on my neck |
He ain’t got no bullets in that gun, why he flex |
Feel like I’m Nike cause I got these checks |
She give head with no hands, bitch look like a T-Rex, I’m gone |
Young Rich Squad, man you boys can’t even sit with us |
Said he fly as me, boy, you must be smokin' angel dust |
New block blower, pull up on you, finna paint you up |
I get legal money, I don’t fuck with all that shady stuff |
Hit 80 bands off the rap like last week |
Pullin' out the burner, now he runnin' like an athlete |
Ion wanna squabble, get the burner on your ass cheeks |
Stupid ass nigga thought he finna get a pass, B |
Dummy |
You a stupid ass nigga, I don’t wanna hear it |
Over, over, over, over, over, over, over |