J’aimerais Trop

Ok, Gramz
Dope
For sure

Ayy, I'm in the booth with Lil V (huh?)
Lot of niggas don't keep the shit P
He go through a four tryna catch the bitch chin
Nigga, stop trippin', let the ho be a freak
Tryna run up this paper, go bump me a geek (huh?)
Baby, come here, suck me to sleep
Hunnids and 50s, blues and pink
Truck fully loaded, bitch look like a Brinks

Ayy, fuck nigga playin', he dyin' (he dyin')
I'm tryna score like I'm Ryan, got the stick like I'm blind
I got the Glock in my hand 'cause when it go down
Nigga, I ain't wastin' no time
I got the Wock' in my cup, bitch, I ain't cryin'
Babe, I ain't drinkin' no wine
One day a nigga be gangster, the next day he changin'
I heard the boy dropped a dime

Niggas cop out when they know the smoke for real
I know s-, he ain't cappin', he gon' go for real
I ain't too big on fightin', nigga die
Tryna run up on me like he Holyfield
Niggas cap for these hoes, but I know the real
You ain't gettin' to no money, you catfish
Yeah, I took me a loss, but I'm back lit
Little cock, but she still get her back bent

Lil' ass nigga, big ass pistol
Gettin' to the paper, it ain't new to me
Nigga know where I'm at, I ain't never hidin'
I'm on fourteen hundred, come and shoot at me
Nigga caught through this bitch, can't be nervous
Nigga try, I'ma kill him on purpose
He think with his dick send a freak his way
He gon' lose his brain, all that flirtin'