
headhuncho amir - black trucks lyrics
[intro]
(ziggymadeit)
[verse]
black trucks, back+to+tack, that’s my type of sh+t
you can’t name a b+tch that loyal, why would i wife a b+tch?
mix the old me for a cuban, that’s that triflin’ sh+t
drive the rod, hit my face, i don’t like that sh+t
tell brodie whatever he wanna do, i’m with it, good or bad
auntie asked me what i’m good at, i told her, “selin’ bags”
i know how to shake back, i was just down to my last
i been buzzin’ in the city, sh+t been goin’ up fast
n+gga think that he can f+ck with me, tell him bet the stash
i ain’t never used no stylist, don’t need help with the swag
every time i post a pic, know a couple n+ggas be mad
let youngin drive the rex, name a whip that we ain’t had
do your research, been piped up
every chick i dealt with, i gave ’em game and piped them up
i was taught don’t talk a lot ’cause these n+ggas be mic’d up
my og still turnt up, these n+ggas ain’t nothin’ like us, let’s prove it
when we pop out in the club, it’s a movie
more n+ggas be tryna get in free than hoes, these n+ggas groupies
run it up for ninety days, i done went through it
my n+gga rich off scams, he got forty for a truist
watch your back, man, these streets wild
i’m the type to hide the paper, let the money pile
brodie in the pen’, gon’ call back when he leave jail
i was too advanced in kush ‘bows since a child
wanted shawty, but now she got a lot of miles
my lil’ bro don’t give a f+ck, he been livin’ wild
when they see a n+gga ballin’, they just try to foul
everything i been through, you should be proud
the paper always on my side, it be there when i need it
been peepin’ the fake love, on the cool, you can keep it
leavin’ the yo at 5:00 a.m’ll have a n+gga sleepy
tell a person no once, they’ll stop speakin’
mama know i’ma get it regardless
we don’t shoot up houses, drop a bag, hit the target
thinkin’ ’bout that ’63, know i need that brabus
pops gave a n+gga the game, that’s why i’m the sharpest
love the ones who sit next to me
every track i’m on, i’ma walk, i got the recipe
wanna talk, hit my manager, ain’t no textin’ me
my n+gga keep that 5 alive, he love to let ’em beat
when you see us, know our diamonds boxin’
3:00 a.m. in houston, smokin’ ‘za at hood hibachi
i’m a real player, ain’t playin’ in no nail polish
n+gga play at the grammy’s, we gon’ get it poppin’
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