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• Artiste: Trippie Redd
• Titre: Uka Uka
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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Yeah, Big 14 know what the fuck goin' on, yeah Ooh, said I made y'all So how could I be mad that I ain't y'all? Same reason why I hate y'all Hop up in this Rari then I race off, ayy Do the dash in this racecar Got the Pistol Pete on me, is this a face off? Ayy Better say your damn grace dog Blind in reality just like you're Ray Charles Ayy, I don't want no more pressure No, I don't want no more pressure No, I don't want no more pressure Ahh, don't want no more pressure Ahh, don't want no more pressure Ahh, don't want no more pressure, ahh Ayy, fuck your bitch and hit my fucking dab Ayy, choppers by my side, you know it clap Like your bitch ass, big bag Big cash, and I tote a big gat Aftermath, I been dressed in all black Got the black mask I'll pull it out the motherfucking black bag Ooh, yeah, and drop your ass Bang bang, lil nigga you left in the past Ooh, ayy, son these niggas, I'm your dad Big racks on my body, baby got this cash Pray these goofy niggas really goin' out sad Give these pussy niggas hell like I'm Johnny Gat, ooh Swear I want no pressure No, swear I want no pressure No, swear I want no pressure No, swear I want no pressure No, swear I want no pressure No, swear I want no pressure No, swear I want no pressure Ooh, ayy, ooh, are you niggas really from the field? Or are you niggas really from the hills? I got a mob of niggas coming by the mills They'll shoot your ass down boy from 1400 kills, for real I'm tryna find your fuckin chill I'm off this Actavis, I'm tryna pop a seal I don't do Xannies baby, no, don't do no pills I'm just smokin on dope, baby Just thumbin' through the mills, so ill