Its a whole lotta cappin been goin on
But I got real street niggas really out there makin it happen
Know what I'm sayin? And we don't do no cappin
My niggas been trappin
You niggas been cappin
You know I been having
Them bands under mattress
I'm sippin On hitech swerving through traffic
Won't catch me lacking
This glock automatic
Windows be tinted, I'm rollin this deizel
Gotta watch for the people
Know I'm all on they meter
Strap with no papers this big bitch illegal
While you niggas sleepers, I'm creepin like jeepers
Creepin like jeepers, I'm jeeper the creeper
My bitch look Chinese... I just asked for a threesome
We trappin out regals... Q Ps of that refer
2300 for a pound you can keep it
Quarterbackin the pack and my youngins receiving
Like my GMG niggas I'm sippin Selena
Shopping out at Neiman's Im dripping Buscemi
Shout out the Italians for designing my sneakers
Dat fye, it's on me
These niggas, don't want it
F*ck you, yo Mama, yo cousins, yo homies
The scale is digit,I'm counting these figures
That's gas, it's hitting
That swag, ridiculous
Keep a big glock with a black mask
Boy I'm serving loud through the cash app
Keep a big thot with a fat ass
Boy a nigga love em it they ratchet
Smokin sticky out the ounce now
Got a couple pounds we gone grind em out
Hotbox the whip when we ridin round
Can't trap down the bloc cuz the bloc hot
Too deep off in the game we can't stop now
Put that cut all in that coke and triple up the the profit
Niggas throwing shade tryna block my shine
365 days out here on the grind
Okay I'm coming with it
I heard yo homies sent you on a dummy mission
Y'all some dummy niggas
If y'all want yo issue, my nigga Tommy keep a Tommy nigga
So it aint nothing, it aint nothing
We eatin over here, its like y'all f*ck niggas keep a weak stomach
I flow sick, vomit (Bitch)
I spent 600 (Gang)
On this wallet nigga, I don't even carry money
(F*ck a nigga talkin bout)
Dat fye, it's on me
These niggas, don't want it
F*ck you, yo Mama, yo cousins, yo homies
The scale is digit,I'm counting these figures
That's gas, it's hitting
That swag, ridiculous
Fye Video (MV)
Tek Castellano - Fye Lyrics
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Its a whole lotta cappin been goin on
But I got real street niggas really out there makin it happen
Know what I'm sayin? And we don't do no cappin
My niggas been trappin
You niggas been cappin
You know I been having
Them bands under mattress
I'm sippin On hitech swerving through traffic
Won't catch me lacking
This glock automatic
Windows be tinted, I'm rollin this deizel
Gotta watch for the people
Know I'm all on they meter
Strap with no papers this big bitch illegal
While you niggas sleepers, I'm creepin like jeepers
Creepin like jeepers, I'm jeeper the creeper
My bitch look Chinese... I just asked for a threesome
We trappin out regals... Q Ps of that refer
2300 for a pound you can keep it
Quarterbackin the pack and my youngins receiving
Like my GMG niggas I'm sippin Selena
Shopping out at Neiman's Im dripping Buscemi
Shout out the Italians for designing my sneakers
Dat fye, it's on me
These niggas, don't want it
F*ck you, yo Mama, yo cousins, yo homies
The scale is digit,I'm counting these figures
That's gas, it's hitting
That swag, ridiculous
Keep a big glock with a black mask
Boy I'm serving loud through the cash app
Keep a big thot with a fat ass
Boy a nigga love em it they ratchet
Smokin sticky out the ounce now
Got a couple pounds we gone grind em out
Hotbox the whip when we ridin round
Can't trap down the bloc cuz the bloc hot
Too deep off in the game we can't stop now
Put that cut all in that coke and triple up the the profit
Niggas throwing shade tryna block my shine
365 days out here on the grind
Okay I'm coming with it
I heard yo homies sent you on a dummy mission
Y'all some dummy niggas
If y'all want yo issue, my nigga Tommy keep a Tommy nigga
So it aint nothing, it aint nothing
We eatin over here, its like y'all f*ck niggas keep a weak stomach
I flow sick, vomit (Bitch)
I spent 600 (Gang)
On this wallet nigga, I don't even carry money
(F*ck a nigga talkin bout)
Dat fye, it's on me
These niggas, don't want it
F*ck you, yo Mama, yo cousins, yo homies
The scale is digit,I'm counting these figures
That's gas, it's hitting
That swag, ridiculous
But I got real street niggas really out there makin it happen
Know what I'm sayin? And we don't do no cappin
My niggas been trappin
You niggas been cappin
You know I been having
Them bands under mattress
I'm sippin On hitech swerving through traffic
Won't catch me lacking
This glock automatic
Windows be tinted, I'm rollin this deizel
Gotta watch for the people
Know I'm all on they meter
Strap with no papers this big bitch illegal
While you niggas sleepers, I'm creepin like jeepers
Creepin like jeepers, I'm jeeper the creeper
My bitch look Chinese... I just asked for a threesome
We trappin out regals... Q Ps of that refer
2300 for a pound you can keep it
Quarterbackin the pack and my youngins receiving
Like my GMG niggas I'm sippin Selena
Shopping out at Neiman's Im dripping Buscemi
Shout out the Italians for designing my sneakers
Dat fye, it's on me
These niggas, don't want it
F*ck you, yo Mama, yo cousins, yo homies
The scale is digit,I'm counting these figures
That's gas, it's hitting
That swag, ridiculous
Keep a big glock with a black mask
Boy I'm serving loud through the cash app
Keep a big thot with a fat ass
Boy a nigga love em it they ratchet
Smokin sticky out the ounce now
Got a couple pounds we gone grind em out
Hotbox the whip when we ridin round
Can't trap down the bloc cuz the bloc hot
Too deep off in the game we can't stop now
Put that cut all in that coke and triple up the the profit
Niggas throwing shade tryna block my shine
365 days out here on the grind
Okay I'm coming with it
I heard yo homies sent you on a dummy mission
Y'all some dummy niggas
If y'all want yo issue, my nigga Tommy keep a Tommy nigga
So it aint nothing, it aint nothing
We eatin over here, its like y'all f*ck niggas keep a weak stomach
I flow sick, vomit (Bitch)
I spent 600 (Gang)
On this wallet nigga, I don't even carry money
(F*ck a nigga talkin bout)
Dat fye, it's on me
These niggas, don't want it
F*ck you, yo Mama, yo cousins, yo homies
The scale is digit,I'm counting these figures
That's gas, it's hitting
That swag, ridiculous
Writer: Cortez Herrin
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid