Trippin' Lyrics

Why you always Trippin'

Why you always Trippin'

I got what you need

Bitch just look at me

I'm smoking all this weed

Why you always Trippin'

I got whatever you need

The money, the green just hit me, so why are you Trippin'

I don't even fuck with the fiends

If they talking to me it's bout business, I'm not even Trippin'

When I'm shooting my shot I don't miss like I'm Scotty

These hoes going crazy, they all start Trippin'

But I already got me a girl and she wifey material

I'm making that baby my mission

I just went an payed my dues back, hold on check the news Jack

I told y'all I'm gon' do that, look at all these blue stacks

Ugh, I'm doing well and I'm not gonna front it

You say it's a facade but that just your assumption

Making bag after bag, selling out every function

Why the hell are you Trippin' yet, you ain't seen nothing

In my low, low, low with my bullet proof vest

Imma go, go, go, show 'em what I do best

Sending them shots straight through your chest

Getting perfect scores on every single test

Why are you hating on me but now that I'm next

But while you Trippin' bout it I'm signing my checks

Aye I'm really not tryna be mean cause you know that ain't even me (Ugh, Yeah)

But I'm just a cocky lil teen, addicted to money and weed (Ugh, Yeah)

I keep on out smoking you feinds, that's why they call me the King (Kush, Yeah)

These bitches keep talking to me, all of these bitches love me (Ugh, Yeah)

Whenever I'm poppin' its only an acid, it's never a bean

But don't get it twisted, when I pop outside to your party

You know that I'm strapped with a beam

Then I go and preform to a crowd with a sold out show

Bet y'all gon' hear their screams

Get geeked out off of the molly

Whatever you on but everybody gonna sing

Why you always Trippin'

I got whatever you need

The money, the green just hit me, so why are you Trippin'

I don't even fuck with the fiends

If they talking to me its bout business, I'm not even Trippin'

When I'm shooting my shot I don't miss like I'm Scotty

These hoes going crazy, they all start Trippin'

But I already got me a girl and she wifey material

I'm making that baby my mission

I just went an payed my dues back, hold on check the news Jack

I told y'all I'm gon' do that, look at all these blue stacks

Ugh, I'm doing well and I'm not gonna front it

You say it's a facade but that just your assumption

Making bag after bag, selling out every function

Why the hell are you Trippin' yet, you ain't seen nothing

In the studio making these songs

Boosting my status, you know what I'm on

I'm giving the game a new style and sound for real cause ain't nobody got their own

Surpassing these rappers with everything that I been doing, while sitting chilling on my throne

Clutching a Smith and Wesson any second I'll prove like this choppa, my heart made of chrome

Yeah, you think my bars are clever (Huh)

I make this shit off the dome

Yeah, you think that you could do better

Dummy, I'm making music at home

You hit the studio, spending your money for hours but you can't even make a song

But me I just do it so effortlessly, when I hop on a track you know I'm in my zone

I go over it one time, two times, three times then it's over with, then I let go

It's my time, my time, and my grind is so strong, I can't ever let go

So rewind one more time cause I now you ain't know what I'm saying lil bro

But I'm tryin' I'm tryin' to show y'all that it's so fucking easy to grow

Why you always Trippin'

I got whatever you need

The money, the green just hit me, so why are you Trippin'

I don't even fuck with the fiends

If they talking to me its bout business, I'm not even Trippin'

When I'm shooting my shot I don't miss like I'm Scotty

These hoes going crazy, they all start Trippin'

But I already got me a girl and she wifey material

I'm making that baby my mission

I just went an payed my dues back, hold on check the news Jack

I told y'all I'm gon' do that, look at all these blue stacks

Ugh, I'm doing well and I'm not gonna front it

You say it's a facade but that just your assumption

Making bag after bag, selling out every function

Why the hell are you Trippin' yet, you ain't seen nothing