lirik lagu trendy boiiz - 60s
[intro: syl johnson]
momma she works so hard
to earn every penny
[verse 1: trendy boiiz]
on the block with a choppa, it was just me and chop
i was chillin’ with k!llers and scammers (oh lord)
n~ggas know how i rock when i came on the block
no construction, i play with them hammers
and f~ck 12, them n~ggas can’t stand us (something is holdin me back)
they shoot at a kid with his hands up (ah ah)
rest in peace to my soldiers and for all of my guys
we gon’ pour up a four in this fanta (oh lord)
respect a black man on a mission
from new york to l.a. we crippin’
let ’em reflect on the album
the waiter on the edge i be sipping’
i’m tryna get all of the guys out the kitchen
for the money you know they be itchin’
free all of my real n~ggas sittin’ up
it’s not how you fall, how you gettin’ up
fifteen on the check~ins, the loub’ when i’m steppin’
38 be the weapon, no b~tchin’ up
it’s big trendy stunna, you see me start runnin’
you know it’s the gang, it’s no switchin’ up
i’m totin’ ’em chops ’cause you know i got glizzies
i keep some extra shooters with me
we trap out the bas~m~nt, we punchin’ ’em numbers
you hopin’ and payin’ for shippin’
you sayin’ you f~ckin’ but ain’t nothin’ hit me
’cause i keep a bl!cky, in case it gets sticky
and i let it woo, but when i’m not crippin’
we spin in the wraith, top~down in the renty
got one in the head, we ain’t leave till it’s empty
sippin’ henny but we call it jenny
we all gettin’ breesh, we mix the buscemi with all of the fendi
my b~tch got on fendi until we live gucci
i need a tone before i get sixty, wishin’ no pity
you wanna make bread, tell ’em open up citi
these n~ggas don’t walk but they talk about it
we sellin’ that chalk, we don’t talk about it
we flexin’ up td approve we gon’ tt
we walk in the spot, then we walk up out it
[interlude]
gang, gang
man, that sh~t crazy ya heard
lotta n~ggas ain’t who they say they is, ya feel me
n~ggas wanna talk that tough sh~t but when they get touched
they gon’ run to they momma and sh~t
got they mom inboxin’ the gang and sh~t like, you feel me
that sh~t ain’t gangsta, that sh~t ain’t real
[verse 2]
uh, call up the batman, i’m robin
from the flossy, that’s crip and i g~ngb~ng
all my n~ggas on the same thing
smokin’ gas while i switch lanes
caught a opp up with the h~llo
black hair by the regis and pello, i’m always around n~ggas know that
i keep my jaw locked like i’m kodak
throw somethin’ at me, i’ma throwback
[outro]
gang
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