Trickery ft. Lokye Lyrics

These rappers be tellin' fairytales

Cop some designer for they bitch and then they share Chanel

I tell them to put a little money away every time they bust a sale

Me and 64 been spittin' some shit that'll make em think it's the holy grail

Came up in the city where you smoke on stoops and grind some rails

Now I'm blazin' trails

Gunpowder residue under the shooter's fingernails

Like the top shotta main boss man, we out here gettin' rich as well

Niggas out here pillow talkin, lookin' for a bitch to tell

Junkies swimmin' through the wishing well

Listenin' to Chasin' Pavement by Adele

Moved to a place where the lions dwell

God of mischief, Lord of trickery

All this tourin' round the country had my momma missin' me

Blicky tucked in the corduroy, still with the fuckery

All this art up on my walls, it might've helped her fall in love with me

Introduced me to the life of luxury

They say too much innovation might have some people hunting me

Bags gettin' sold outside of the complex

Knock a weak nigga out, there ain't no contest

Find the motivation and inspiration to keep creating content

Bagged up 50 dimes, went to the Eastside thuggin

Came back home with 20, smoked about five with my cousin

Big blunts in the sky for my dog layin' under

Every time I get high, there's some questions that make me wonder

The weed taste like candy and the candy taste like weed

How many milligrams of THC could make me fall asleep

Two vape shawty, it's different flavors in these streets

I got balance, I'm a skater, I could slide on any beat

I got guns, but I want bigger ones to ride for any beef

No plates on the whip, and I would ride on any street

If they get behind me, whoop whoop, it's hide and seek

We was really pullin' strings, let the violin speak

Stay prepared for the worst, but I move with good faith

And we can only network if you got some good taste

Stay promotin' on these socials, but fuck what the book say

I ain't steppin' out the house unless I fuckin' look great yeah

We outside with it forreal

We been working, pure dedication

Them lungs dedicated too shawty

Pothole Picasso bringing the art to you shawty

Really swerving through these streets where the cold concrete cracks

It ain't like down south, where ya car might not make it through the winter

Serving Art like making plays

And I'm posted on the porch smoking with Lokye the general

Bringing it to ya front door or mobile phone