Citi Trends
Lyrics
(Banger)
Uh, hey
Young New World he on the way
Whoa, whoa, whoa (DJ on the beat so it's a banger)
Ay, drip drop, big drip
Droppin' when I'm steppin' in
I remember being broke
Used to shop at Citi Trends
Keep a MAC-11 'round me
Dumb head, it's gon' spin the Benz
Keep tryna play with the gang
That's how your story gon' end (said you gon' die, nigga)
Ay, huh, wait, uh
Tell 'em ol' boy is dead, slime on go
Ay, go, hey
Why they big mad at lil' bro?
Oh, whoa, hey
Gucci, Fendi, I rock designer clothes
Ay, no, hey
No, don't need security, my dawg got poles
Boy, stay in Gucci, man
Might have to go Super Saiyan
Run up on me, you get hit
Couple shots to your brain
Hop out with it
Hop out, get it
No Lil Pump got her screamin', "Esketit"
My hitters got good aim
Power up your nigga, man
They giving out free smoke
Come get this nicotine
Oh, Lord
Oh, Lord
Scared to step out of the house
Shots to his door
Pistol packin', yeah, we heard all about it
Sittin' heavy, yeah, we really really 'bout it
Simon said, "Take out the opps"
If you was really really 'bout it
We keep a rock star vibe, that's a fact, yeah
Hopped out, uh
Gucci, Louis, Fendi bag, ay (DJ on the beat so it's a banger)
Ay, drip drop, big drip
Droppin' when I'm steppin' in
I remember being broke
Used to shop at Citi Trends
Keep a MAC-11 'round me
Dumb head, it's gon' spin the Benz
Keep tryna play with the gang
That's how your story gon' end (said you gon' die, nigga)
Ay, huh, wait, uh
Tell 'em ol' boy is dead, slime on go
Ay, go, hey
Why they big mad at lil' bro?
Oh, whoa, hey
Gucci, Fendi, I rock designer clothes
Ay, no, hey (NLE the top shotta)
No, don't need security, my dawg got poles (ay)
Don't need security because I'm securing me
Don't think you hear me, ten on my earrings
Niggas gon' mirror me, won't interfere on me
Chain on purity, see the shit clearly
Designer rockin', my five in my pocket
I go for the score, and you niggas can't block it
I'm comin' like Dragić, ballin' be my hobby
Ay, stop all that talkin' and get you a body
Before you get bodied
Been had a body, charge me with the body
Then, go beat the body
Damn, that's a body, got calamari
And had to tie this on my left and right
Pull up in the Masi', in the back like Mozzy
I pose with my posse, we slidin' like hockey
Couple of females that pose in the lobby
I walk past, and they screamin' out, "Papi"
I set the trends, the city gon' cheer on me
'Posed to condemn me, but they gon' hear me
We can't keep it friendly, niggas don't listen
We drive on the ten speed, let out that twenty
We pullin' out the last straight drop
We poppin', poppin', poppin'
You say, "What about the opps?
They bodies droppin', droppin'"
I mix the diamonds, on drip with the cheddar
My chief speakin' different language like Rosetta
I thought a nigga knew better
You can't mix the glizzy and the choppas with the Beretta
Say he a stepper, but I took his metal
I'd rather go federal 'fore I go medical
Mind over matter, my bars, they metaphors (DJ on the beat so it's a banger)
I told the police that I'm just a regular
Drip drop, big drip
Droppin' when I'm steppin' in (when I'm steppin')
I remember being broke (yeah, yeah)
Used to shop at Citi Trends
Keep a MAC-11 'round me
Dumb head, it's gon' spin the Benz (Spin the Benz)
Keep tryna play with the gang
That's how your story gon' end (gon' end)
Ay, huh, wait, uh
Tell 'em ol' boy is dead, slime on go (slime on go)
Ay, go, hey
Why they big mad at lil' bro? (Lil' bro)
Oh, whoa, hey
Gucci, Fendi, I rock designer clothes (designer clothes)
Ay, no, hey
No, don't need security, my dawg got poles (my dawg got poles)
Writer(s): Brandon King, Bryson Potts, Darrel Jackson
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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