Dank - Speak, Vince Staples

I’m Trapping with my weapon

Till they trap me in that fucking cell

Rap for sale, Drugs for sale

Everything is up for sale

Trying to bring my gun to hell, Hallelujah

Load the Ruger, Cock the Ruger

Aim it at your Mama, (Shoot Her) Fucking Loser

Pawn Shop, Bayonets, Revolvers

And some tape cassettes

Tax Man, Axe Man

We still out here collecting debt

Empty all your pockets

Prices right they need to pay up

Accessory to hitting licks, Alley Oops and layup

They make you famous

Then say the money change ya

But of course that money change us niggas

Ever seen a range my nigga

Hummer in the parking lot, you see me coming call the cops

Im Robert Horry corner shot

Rockets Jersey Camouflage

No limit tank, with them gold spinning things

Bitch it pours, when it rains

Whores be high as Brontosaurus twat

Took a couple grand in molly morph the glocc

Laser beam Shorty, Ed Hardy Print Ferrari

Feel the tire shop

Fuck whatever band you in

My bullet shells gargantuan

Got Cantonese and mandarins

Chinese hoes for laundering

Endless stacks of laundromats

My mail order brides are back

Redbones, Green Cards, Crystal Meth, and Value Packs

Chrome illusion spinners

Lug boots and a new jag

Yokohama tires for diamond studded doo-rag

Papa’s brand new bag, got the bones of Jimmy Hoffa

Super fly like Jimmy Snuka

With my jungle print chopper

You say you a gangsta, but you never pop nothing

We say you a wanksta, and you need to stop frontin'

Go to the dealership, and you never cop nothing

You been hustling a long time, and you ain’t got nothing

Damn homie

Damn homie

Damn homie