One Up

Album: No More Leaks (2022)
Charted: 17
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  • 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

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