Thursday At Truth – Trdee & BabyTron

[TrDee:]
It’s Bluestrip, baby
Huh

It’s Thursday, I’m at the club only for the lamb
Are you a Action Replay? Then put her on the cam
I heard yo gang a bunch of burgers and yo bitch a ham
I don’t even like this shirt, I bought it ’cause I can
Even with my glasses off I can see the fakes
They just wanna try to stop me, hate come with breaks
But I’ma live it up until I see the gates
Told him this what happened, I was hurt that they ain’t have faith
She can’t stay mad because I take her on a shopping spree
Something ’bout the fame always make the hoes flock to me
Said her head was fire, I was driving, had to stop and see
Opps good at catching ’cause I swear they never dropping me
Timbs on, off the joggy they can tell I’m from the Mitt
Politicking ’bout some money, never beefing ’bout a bitch
Y’all can have the tough shit, I would rather get us rich
Got it off the hams, I ain’t never had to sell a brick
I can’t even leave the crib if it ain’t about no cheese
I be running through that money, boy, that shit a breeze
If you play yo role right then you shall receive
A couple purses and some hair if you say please
I think I wanna paint yo face, baby, say cheese
I think a cop got behind us, baby, take these
God, fuck these fake niggas, why you make these?
Don’t give yo heart to me, girl, I break these

[BabyTron:]
It’s Thursday, I’m at the club with a dub on me
Off-White letterman, I bet she try and rub on me
Gave her good dick, now she always tryna hug on me
Walking in her crib, she jumped on me, damn near humped on me
Bro a drankhead, high as hell, got, one more time
I mean bro a drankhead, he talking ’bout he need one more line
[?] and some [?] in the ‘Wood, bitch, this jumbo size
It’s some members ’round me, this so janky, better tuck yo ice
Squaring up ain’t a bright idea if you love yo life
Feel like Tyrone, I come through horsing, I might fuck yo wife
Turned in twenty jacks, my Arabs came in clutch tonight
At Mr. Corned Beef, told ’em make sure the mustard light
You grabbing petty punches, I get fire off of Onion sites
Nike joggy stuffed with dog shit, I ain’t running light
Shout-out Vez, riding down the 6, double cup on ice
I might put you on the first team if yo jumper nice
First class itch, think I’m finna go and jump on flights
Answering my bitch call like, “You know you bugging, right?”
Feel like Rondo, got a rocket tucked in these Number Nines
Popped out my cocoon, now I’m flyer than a butterfly
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