دانلود آهنگ Tables
از Joey Trap

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 smoking angel dust
New block blower, pull up on you phonem 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
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 smoking angel dust
New block blower, pull up on you phonem 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 (what?)
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, kick her out like she 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
(Yo-yo, gone)
Young rich squad, man you boys can’t even sit with us
Said he fly as me, boy you must be smoking angel dust
New block blower, pull up on you phonem 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
Pull up 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
Dummy
You a stupid ass nigga I don’t wanna hear it
Over
Over, over
Over, over, over