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letra de trakhawk - damedot

trakhawk lyrics
[intro]
(ooh, rell)
(are you in the mafia?)
(am i in the what?)
(whatever you wanna call it; organized crime)
(i’m in the waste management business, everybody immediately assumes you’re mobbed up, it’s a stereotype)

[chorus]
i’m doin’ two hundred in a trackhawk
bro just spilled a whole zip of weed when i stabbed off
we pull up with all sticks like we play for the blackhawks
ordered two mcdoubles, i told ’em hold the mac sauce
’cause i’ma put my own fetti in ’em, i don’t leave ’em raw

[verse]
i don’t want no petty ass order, i’ma need ’em all
her tits don’t sit up like i like, she gon’ need a bra
bro just pulled up in a scat’ askin’ me where it’s at
say yo’ shooter on that, we’ll turn him to a pack
my b-tch from the ‘raq on a flat
quake and rock, twist her act’, my drink man he on deck
you cashapp’ed her yo last, why the f-ck you send her that?
we know it’s ’bout some pape’ if we ever interact
if i don’t like the ice cubes, you know i send ’em back
she suck it on sight when she see me, i just sit back
my whole outfit cost a kick knack
four ar clips together like a kit kat
i got a baller belly not a six pack
if you ever up on me, i need my l!ck back
if she ever see me, you won’t get yo’ b-tch back
took two of mine, we forever gettin’ getback
watch how you run up, bro’ll throw a n-gga sh-t back
yo mans lookin’ broke, n-gga, fix that
b-tch, who you f-ckin’? what you drive? where you live at?
i know i can’t see where yo’ waist, but where yo’ wrist at?
he ain’t seen his ho in a minute, where his b-tch at?
i came by myself the barbecue a n-gga kickback
i don’t need no intro, you hoes know i been that
i see you got the dweller, damedot, where you get that?
b-tch how many vendors do you got on yo’ whatsapp?
i hit the b-tch hard from the back, make her cuss at me
she suck my d-ck so good, i ain’t even wanna f-ck after
i was so in shock, i forgot to even cashapp her
i told all my n-ggas ’bout the sh-t and we laughed at her
cup so muddy
a sixteen of trench, got the sh-t from lil’ cuddy
all blues in my pocket but i’m ridin’ with my bl–dy
got a text from a bad b-tch, she told me sl-t her
how is i’m a democrat when i’m goin’ to the republic?
i just spent ten bands for nothin’
bro’ll blow yo’ b-tch ass in public
beat the case like gucci, make you n-ggas change the subject
skrrt
i’m doin’ two hundred in a trackhawk
n-gga, tell the truth, you ain’t fell back, you fell off
if i sell a thousand of these vezzos, i’m well off
yeah, but you know me, i’ma need a thousand more
i’m only gon’ be here for a minute then i’m out the door
walk in the mansion, let her count the pros
[chorus]
i’m doin’ two hundred in a trackhawk
bro just spilled a whole zip of weed when i stabbed off
we pull up with all sticks like we play for the blackhawks
ordered two mcdoubles, i told ’em hold the mac sauce
’cause i’ma put my own fetti in ’em, i don’t leave ’em raw

- damedot

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