Eastsiders

Текст песни Tray Tray - Eastsiders

Yeah
(Boy, you did that one, boy)
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Four fingers tucked, one nigga
Trey Trey, yeah, uh

We got all types of Glocks, Gen. 5's, Gen. 3's
I got all type of bitches, they gon' pray to God for me
I don't care 'bout what he did when he was here, he deceased
Just know long as I got money, ain't a nigga out of reach
Amiri denim, pants full of racks, I'm barely goin' in 'em
I know niggas bitches, talk like hoes, I'm barely speakin' to 'em
I rep FBG, but I be throwin' 4E in the field
It's a lot of fake love, but when you die, the feelin' real

Fuck the opps and who be with 'em
Know it's that way 'til we kill 'em
Been a suspect and a victim
Hundred shots, we ain't gon' miss 'em
Brand new mice, I'm still gon' chase 'em
Don't come back if you ain't face 'em
You ain't feelin' how I'm feelin', off this.30, I be bracin'
Told my niggas, "We gon' make it"
All my life, I heard I'm basic
Only good at shootin' niggas
Half my victims barely made it
You can ask the streets about me
Ain't a soul can say I faked it
Just know you gon' have to pay for your shit back if bronem take it
My lil' bitch a different type
We locked in, this shit for life
If it's that, then it's on sight
Can't get left if you do right
I done seen the toughest niggas turn bitch behind that pipe
My lil' bro twenty-three and he be scorin' shit like Mike

We got all types of Glocks, Gen. 5's, Gen. 3's
I got all type of bitches, they gon' pray to God for me
I don't care 'bout what he did when he was here, he deceased
Just know long as I got money, ain't a nigga out of reach
Amiri denim, pants full of racks, I'm barely goin' in 'em
I know niggas bitches, talk like hoes, I'm barely speakin' to 'em
I rep FBG, but I be throwin' 4E in the field
It's a lot of fake love, but when you die, the feelin' real

I been shootin' guns since 2012, like 2013
G Herbo, I'm really famous, but I still make a scene
Got my hoodie drawed up, and I'm still rockin' bling
Huh, for real
Uh, uh, you ain't never made a kill, you don't know how that feel
I ain't even have to drill, I was behind the wheel
Chains rose gold, I still got blue steel
I'll shoot at will, I don't care how you feel
Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
And you breathin' panic, and I'll leave a nigga stiff like a mannequin
Everybody want me to handle it
Ayy, chill out, I'ma handle it
Everybody know I'm gettin' that cake, I'ma pay for all the damages

We got all types of Glocks, Gen. 5's, Gen. 3's
I got all type of bitches, they gon' pray to God for me
I don't care 'bout what he did when he was here, he deceased
Just know long as I got money, ain't a nigga out of reach
Amiri denim, pants full of racks, I'm barely goin' in 'em
I know niggas bitches, talk like hoes, I'm barely speakin' to 'em
I rep FBG, but I be throwin' 4E in the field
It's a lot of fake love, but when you die, the feelin' real