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Travy
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
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Uh yeah uh yeah
Uh yeah boys uh yo
Six names on my guest list
Six songs on my set list
Two frats on the backseat
Diggin' for the gold in my mawler's gatsy
Gimme the M's on my athlete
Still runnin' to their M's like trap
Uh, still running for the M's, like
Used to build but now we don't build
Used to chill but now we don't chill
Sick of these niggas bitch i'm ill giving the hardest swallow to kill
Nigga i'm real is this gucci belt
You don't even know how the gucci felt
Back to being a pretty back to being legit
Spit on my hand hand on my hip
Grinding my gears give me the chip
I'm in the whip i'm in a rag i'm in the passenger side
Running your mouth i'm trying to glide hair
Six names on my guest list
Six songs on my set list
Two frats on the backseat
Diggin' for the gold in my mawler's gatsy
Gimme the M's on my athlete
Still runnin' to their M's like trap
Uh, still running for the M's, like
Yo!
Been riding 16s in my head since about 16
Now I'm holding it down for the team
Back slapping to chat about me
Hand on my head, been holding it down for the scene
I need more puns, I ain't talking about Kojo
See Vex, she really in Tokyo
Blind and the haters, they're really some bozos
Still hungry, I'm touching my torso
First to the fight, these niggas some no-shows
Why the fuck do you think that I'm spicing on beats?
For my family, Lee
Leveling up and I'm bringing the peas
Cause they counting on me
I know it's my time, waiting patiently
See, I have to believe
Yeah, I have to believe
Yeah, I have to believe
They put money on me
I put money on his
Take your deli to bed
I don't trust in a fed
I don't trust in a pig
They know me and I'm making it big
Making it big so you don't understand it, no cap in this shit
See, I'm really the man I put back in my slip
Always stick to the plan
He ain't jacking the shit, but he really a fan
I'll be your boy and
I'm gonna put a kill on my receiver with the iglis
Peel like the bass in my pocket, I'm taking a piss
Taking a ritual, whatever it is
It is what it is, baby, give me a kiss
Man, stop and search
Feds on the frisk
I'm spinning this shit till I'm breaking the disc
Freezing my pain with the ice on my wrist
Six names on my guest list
Six songs on my set list
Two frats on the backseat
Diggin' for the gold in my mawler's gatsy
Gimme the M's on my athlete
Still runnin' to their M's like trap
Uh, still running for the M's, like
It's a little runnin' through the ends of that
It's a little runnin' through the, uh
It's a little runnin' through the ends like
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