Tables Joey Trap

[Intro]
Man you boys can't even sit with us, stupid
You dumb ass niggas
You really thought -
You really thought you could sit with us, stupid
Nigga look at my shoes
These is Louboutin's, nigga

[Chorus]
Young Rich Squad, man you boys can’t even sit with us
Said he fly as me, boy, you must be smokin' angel dust
New block blower, pull up on you, finna paint you up
I get legal money, I don't fuck with all that shady stuff
Hit 80 bands off the rap like last week
Pullin' out the burner, now he runnin' like an athlete
I don't wanna squabble, get the burner to your ass cheeks
Stupid ass nigga thought he finna get a pass, B
Never let a nigga act rowdy, that’s a bitch move
Niggas really stalking on my gram like my bitch do
I won’t never sell another gram I make rich moves
If I go broke I'ma get it out my bitch shoes
Walk to imperial and back, lil' baby
You ain’t even wild, bro, stop acting crazy

[Verse 1]
Fuck your pussy, give me dome first
Brodie at your crib with that led, call that home work
Find out when you sleep, then we run up with that chrome burst
16 bars in this chop, like a long verse
Been on the block, finna ball like it’s cancer
Said that I’m broke, shake my head get your bands up
She wanna fuck, LOL, that’s my answer
If bro hit the lick, then we both got that hammer