Tournaments
Lyrics
Ayy
Jay Critch, Hood Fav
Ayy, yeah
30, hey
Look (let's go)
More problems that come with more money
More chops, now I'm hot they all want me
I got, heat on my side, I got, angels above me
Niggas thinkin' they takin' somethin' from me, they all dummies
Talkin' money I need all of it
Runnin' down, 30's call a blitz
Ice on me like a swollen wrist
Know I'm ballin' like the tournaments
Bad bitch she from overseas so I fly her out, I imported it
Twenty G's out of MIA, and I blew the bag but its more of it
Cut her off, I got more of it
Niggas say they real, I ain't sure of it
Blue strips I got new cake, tryna make a movie like Blu-Ray
Get some new titties for my new bae, up her ratin' like 2K
Brodie came home caught a new case
Gotta pour the pint, get a new case
We don't fuck with 'em cause they two faced
Blew the bag, got a new plate
Still hustle like when we was trappin'
We was trappin' on the school days (jugg, jugg)
Early mornin' gettin' high on the block
The reason why we got to school late
I'm like fuck it, I ain't goin' to class
'Cause I'm tryna make a few plays (jugg, jugg)
Fuck the teachers, they all tried to fail me
Now I pass in the new Wraith
'Member she was clearin' for a few K
Me and bro finessed and found a new wave
I can't let a nigga play me, I'll turn this shit to doomsday
And shorty sayin' that she hate me
Stick it in her mouth like toothpaste
I was
Ayy, I was down and they ain't show me love
'Fore you go and switch up, should've told me what it was
Perkys callin', make it hard to slow down on them drugs
Kick that bitch right to the curb before I kick the cup
You play with that money you fumble the bag, we pickin' it up
They actin' like they was there in the past, that shit is a dub
These niggas could never get on the team, 'cause these niggas scrubs
Whole lotta diamonds, a whole lotta beams, we lightin' you up
More problems that come with more money
More chops, now I'm hot they all want me
I got, heat on my side, I got, angels above me
Niggas thinkin' they takin' somethin' from me, they all dummies (hey)
Talkin' money I need all of it
Runnin' down, 30's call a blitz
Ice on me like a swollen wrist
Know I'm ballin' like the tournaments
Bad bitch she from overseas so I fly her out, I imported it
Twenty G's out of MIA, and I blew the bag but its more of it
Cut her off, I got more of it
Niggas say they real, I ain't sure of it
Blue strips I got new cake, tryna make a movie like Blu-Ray
Get some new titties for my new bae, up her ratin' like 2K
Brodie came home caught a new case
Gotta pour the pint, get a new case
Writer(s): Jason Critchlow
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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