Lyrics H.A.N. - Trinidad Jame$, Fyre., 31 Gramms

H.A.N.

I’m at dinner with my side chick
Tryna keep it private
She said she lost her appetite
I swear baby Ima find it
Here come my nigga
My nigga wanna a picture
I thought he was a fan
Now my nigga wanna feature
C’mon nigga
C’mon nigga
C’mon nigga
Now my nigga wanna deal
And he keep looking at me serious
I look back at my bitch
And she say I should the nigga
He showing me his soundlcoud
I tell him save the trouble
I try to give the email
But he only want the number
He asked
How you get verified
You pay for it or something
How yo gold song go
Man that shit was funny
He asked
Should I do a Major
Or make independent money
I said nigga where my salmon at
And I don’t want no onions
Woah
Woah
Woah
Woah
Might not be too disrespectful nigga
I’m just tryna spit
To you at least a verse
But you about to make your food be hit
I just got out of a jail
I don’t care nothing bout this shit
I don’t want no fucking job
I’m just tryna go legit
So why the fuck you tripping Nigga
I thought you was real
Well bless me with a verse
Help a nigga get a deal
I want gold all on my watch
Got a lil gold in my chain
Why the fuck You being so lame
God Damn nigga you change
I hope that lil change
Last younger than your lil fame
And I heard you did a lil movie
Tryna revive your lil name
Well listen
Forget it
Know I’m still good for a picture
Oh nah
Well fuck you then
Ole Hollywood ass nigga
Gramm
He’s gon hate you and your city
You know?
And I advise everybody wants to get money get out they city, man
Cause that’s where the hatred gone come
You know?
People be like, that’s how I was at first you know
I ain’t going nowhere
I ain’t going nowhere