Uh, they think they got one up on us
Don't trust bitches, out of my dogs, there's some I can trust
They think they got one up on us
That's what they think
Got PTSD, nearly done up a fan 'cah they ran up on us (bop, bop, bop)
(Lekaa Beats)

The fake do a good job blendin' in with the real these days
But I still tell the difference
Realness get recognition
I recognize that from a distance, see it from far (wait)
Bare ANPR, told bro
Beg you don't smoke weed in the car ('low it)
It feels good to see me in the charts
I used to hit shots, sell rock, and link in parks (alright)
You've been warned, I ring the alarm
They talk 'bout the trap, they ain't been in it once
Why G got the trench coat on?
It's black and long like a Christian nun
Tryna locate me a new plate
I don't put trust in vintage guns
Stop whingin' and go get some money
What's wrong with these self-inflicted bums? (Alright)
For my livelihood, pushed white in my hood
But I don't recommend it, there's no longevity
"Central, don't forget me"
Money don't make me lose my memory
A2 Anti, do man badly
Do that gladly
I treat every day like a Monday morning
I treat every month like a January (uh)

They think they got one up on us
D-T-B, I don't trust bitches
Out of my dogs, there's some I can trust
Won't even lie, I got PTSD
Nearly done up a fan 'cah they ran up on us
I left home when I was fourteen
YJ was ten and the man of the house
We go from babies straight to men

Get some money, relive your childhood
Shorty think that I'm childish (why?)
Tryna pull down my trousers
Rip my nut on my Calvins (Kleins)
Out of sight, out of mind
We ain't gotta jump out this ride
Arm out the window, keep it simple
Try hit man off his mountain bike
Link up with a ganja farmer
Cuttin' down plants, no agriculture
Leave it to God, we don't practice obeah
Plan it correct, we gon' catch him
I can't go broke, that's a no-no
Can't all off, that's awkward (awks)
My chain cost sixty thousand
Cool, that's a club performance (alright)
I don't like braggin'
I'm a lowlife but I like high fashion
Amiri denim, it cost a arm and a leg
And a G still saggy
And bro still chingy, and bro still trappin'
Ying and a yang and I need more balance
Baby, I just wanna fuck
I'm sorry, I don't wanna meet your parents (nah, uh)

They think they got one up on us
D-T-B, I don't trust bitches
Out of my dogs, there's some I can trust
Won't even lie, I got PTSD
Nearly done up a fan 'cah they ran up on us
I left home when I was fourteen
YJ was ten and the man of the house
We go from babies straight to men (uh)
They think they got one up on us
D-T-B, I don't trust bitches
Out of my dogs, there's some I can trust
Won't even lie, I got PTSD
Nearly done up a fan 'cah they ran up on us
I left home when I was fourteen
YJ was ten and the man of the house
We go from babies straight to men Writer/s: Babatope Bello, Oakley Caesar-Su
Publisher: Songtrust Ave, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind