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lirik lagu trillzee - walked in (freestyle)

(trillzee)
look like j back when i walk in the building (r.i.p)
all the broke boys be grillin, cuz they hoes i’m k!llin
loc see an op he k!ll him
clutcho roll with extension
a1 wheelin and dealin
ride down your street i’m pillin, in the fiend bug i’m pillin

[trillzee]
my name tricka-trillz hoe you gots to love me
all of these b-tches be actin funny
wanna f-ck wop cuz he got some money, so much paper i could wrap a mummy
i know her baby dance with a jack-a-flunky, couldn’t buy his daughter a pack of huggies
baby we can f-ck you ain’t gots to cuff me, ate her cat then its back to the trap with junkies
walked in the club like its paid in full, i’m the landlord b-tch obey the rules
curry my clip so my banger full, but one shot from this prolly tame a bull
og wop, yeah i pay my dues, lafamil pack we a gang of wolves
call a1 he gon bang the tool, that n-gga sn-tching souls like he taking shoes
this is the finals we golden state, team full of shooters so know your place
found where you live then we roam your place, catch bodies then bodies get thrown in lakes
that n-gga a sucker i know he fake, call up the drummers i orchestrate
f-ckin her mouth d-ck broke her face, swallow nut then she hit me with the poker face

[antloc]
on the day i got out i was thinkin about coming straight to your house in the fiend bug
with the glock on my hip and the smith in my hand when you open the door i just mean mug
mothers and kids get down on the floor, if you do not listen n-gga green slugs
i’m outta the kitchen, i’m straight water whipping, just so i conserve on my fiend drug
i just hit a l1ck, i rob my connect, now i’m the plug
n-ggas keep talking while [??] then feelings hoe team up
a1 sn-tching souls, he’s up in the poles, for the love of the bros
call wop with the wop, he load up the chop, then spit on your block
free the guys and you know its f-ck po po, double barrel and that sh-t leave potholes
imma leave your mother bacon for your oppo, hatch with the mac shoot a n-gga pr-nto
money team shot lil bro honcho, trey dukes straight boot on the oppo
red dot serve a n-gga called squacho, king pin n-gga you can call me pablo

[a1]
big four pound keep gun at all times, i ain’t like them n-ggas that be lying in their rhymes
call the plug, get the pack, back on my grind, i f-ck her and dip cuz she wasting my time
i’m smoking oppers, out my dutchie palma, i won’t conversate if he ain’t talking commas
think i shot at you will take it how you wanna, floating n-ggas thats that toogy with that llama
open n-ggas, time to smoke them n-ggas, thought i told them n-ggas
they don’t really want them problems, never lacking pistol packing, i ain’t lying
ask your main mans what happen when we caught him
lafamilli really gettin to the chicken shot at rocky make a living out the kitchen
messin up the pots, i hate them dirty dishes, but it got me where i’m at i’m tryna get it
every day and night i’m rollin with the pipe, living by the gun you don’t know how i’m feelin
broad daylight i be wheelin and dealin, i’m a dead man walking till somebody k!ll em’

[clutcho]
50 bad b-tches in my iphone, we got saran wrapped bricks in the trap home
i got mac sh-lls for a n-gga backbone, it seem like max flow when n-ggas get cracked on
spill lean on my dutch, like i season my blunt and i stay in the cut like some blood that dried up
and the choppa look like it been snowing for month, and the choppa clip look like its loaded with blunts
i can spend then i leave boys break dance, and her head targets cuz i fill about eight caskets
headshots turn your head to a great basket, they don’t spend they pepper sleet when i straight p-ss it
boom packs buy weed like i’m a faces, if i be up see you up to still take your sh-t
just to let people know that you ain’t on sh-t on some real home hater nor fake bout sh-t

(trillzee)
scalin sat-rdays n-gga
i know i got talkin bout sh-t at the end all the time you know its the f-ck i do
most y’all n-ggas turn it off anyway
run it back, f-ck it, gang!

- lirik lagu trillzee

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