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letra de triflin (lil durk diss) - future & 21 savage

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[intro]
oh yeah, super super
astronaut, yeah

[chorus]
giorgio armani, i’m drippin’ in it
aston martin, i’m whippin’ in it
sh-t gettin’ too specific
10 black whips, i’m too consistent
to my foreign b-tches, tell me if i’m too persistent
all my baby mamas, i just bought ‘em brand new benzes
i need a power of attorney, i’m ’bout to f-ck up some m’s
i need a power of attorney, you need to get this on film
i’m ’bout to push me a wraith, you won’t catch me in the gym
i’m ’bout to push me some weight, you won’t catch me in the gym

[verse 1]
i’m ’bout to f-ck up some mula
but you ain’t owe me no check
i don’t care if you was my daddy
b-tch i’ma cut off your neck
we rockin’ vv’s and ss’s
i swear they get a lil’ crowded
my chains; they fight for attention
my neck’ll get a lil’ rowdy
i’m doin’ my thizzle my nizzle
i work me the price down the middle
i keep me a bag of those skittles
tryna get you a radical feelin’
automatic, it came with no ceiling
all this trappin’ it got you offended
hit a 3-6-0 in a minute
then i punch on the gas a lil harder
i be whippin’ the lamb like a charger
get that money in the bag like a robber
when i whip it? i whip it up harder
to the young n-ggas rockin’ the starters
i was sittin’ in the back of the marta
now i sit in the back of a foreign
soon as i took off the ‘rari
i got the clutch in the carbon (brr, brr)
chrous

[verse 2: 21 savage]
cut the lights on, f-ck it, cut the lights off, diamonds lit
couple vvs’s on my neck the way my diamonds hit
i was 13, robbin’ n-ggas, drinking that brown b-tch
riding in a drop with a glock and a f-cking stick
vvs all on my neck, hold up
100 round drum in that tec, hold up
pull up on you in a ‘vette, hold up
pull up, b-tches break their neck, hold up
pull up on you in a ghost, hold up
pull up, break your b-tch’s throat, hold up
n-ggas think i make money rapping but b-tch i’m still selling dope
i’m in dc with my n-gga lightshow
went to avianne now my f-cking ice glow
and i keep a pistol everywhere that i go
i don’t need no f-cking shooter, young savage gon’ blow

chrous

[verse 3 future]
why you be lookin’ so foul? whoa (whoa)
i put the hundreds in piles (whoa, whoa)
we ’bout to roll up some franklins (yeah)
we ’bout to roll up some loud (yeah)
you better stay in your lane (yeah)
i’m swervin’ all over the map (ya)
i got a panamanian
with her lil’ pretty face all in my lap (ya)
i let her go to sak’s fifth avenue
runnin’ some laps (i swerve)
sometimes i go to chanel
and i sit in the b-tch like it’s a trap (yeah)
rolex store’s in my bando (pluto)
boy george bush with the ammo (yeah)
i spent an m on indo (scrilla)
put it on an 18-wheeler (re’d up)
trappin’ and rappin’, finessin’ (talk to her)
i go beyond for the scrilla (add it up)
freezin’ that ice out your chest (talk to her)
you lookin’ just like a dealer (yeah)
add it all up on an ipad (add it up)
talk to the plug on a car phone (talk to her)
went to miami and re’d up (ballin’)
rovers (woah), porsches (porsches)
chrous

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