Tables - Joey Trap

Man you boys can’t even sit with us, stupid

You dumb ass niggas

You really thought —

You really thought you could sit with us, stupid

Nigga look at my shoes

These is Louboutin’s, nigga

Young Rich Squad, man you boys can’t even sit with us

Said he fly as me, boy, you must be smokin' angel dust

New block blower, pull up on you, finna paint you up

I get legal money, I don’t fuck with all that shady stuff

Hit 80 bands off the rap like last week

Pullin' out the burner, now he runnin' like an athlete

I don’t wanna squabble, get the burner to your ass cheeks

Stupid ass nigga thought he finna get a pass, B

Never let a nigga act rowdy, that’s a bitch move

Niggas really stalking on my gram like my bitch do

I won’t never sell another gram I make rich moves

If I go broke I’ma get it out my bitch shoes

Walk to imperial and back, lil' baby

You ain’t even wild, bro, stop acting crazy

Fuck your pussy, give me dome first

Brodie at your crib with that led, call that home work

Find out when you sleep, then we run up with that chrome burst

16 bars in this chop, like a long verse

Been on the block, finna ball like it’s cancer

Said that I’m broke, shake my head get your bands up

She wanna fuck, LOL, that’s my answer

If bro hit the lick, then we both got that hammer

Young Rich Squad man you boys can’t even sit with us

Said he fly as me, boy, you must be smokin' angel dust

New block blower, pull up on you, finna paint you up

I get legal money, I don’t fuck with all that shady stuff

Hit 80 bands off the rap like last week

Pullin out the burner, now he runnin' like an athlete

I don’t wanna squabble, get the burner on your ass cheeks

Stupid ass nigga thought he finna get a pass, B

Never let a nigga act rowdy, that’s a bitch move

Niggas really stalking on my gram like my bitch do

I won’t never sell another gram I make rich moves

If I go broke I’ma get it out my bitch shoes

Walk to imperial and back, lil' baby

You ain’t even wild, bro, stop acting crazy

I remember I was broke, I ain’t have none

Now my fit is all designer in this Aston

Martin in this bitch, I’ma kick her out like Pam son

All these niggas want my sauce, nigga, y’all like plankton

Broke where bitch?

This ice on my neck

He ain’t got no bullets in that gun, why he flex

Feel like I’m Nike cause I got these checks

She give head with no hands, bitch look like a T-Rex, I’m gone

Young Rich Squad, man you boys can’t even sit with us

Said he fly as me, boy, you must be smokin' angel dust

New block blower, pull up on you, finna paint you up

I get legal money, I don’t fuck with all that shady stuff

Hit 80 bands off the rap like last week

Pullin' out the burner, now he runnin' like an athlete

Ion wanna squabble, get the burner on your ass cheeks

Stupid ass nigga thought he finna get a pass, B

Dummy

You a stupid ass nigga, I don’t wanna hear it

Over, over, over, over, over, over, over