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trdee - crashout music lyrics

[verse]
n+ggas love crashin’ out, this somethin’ to strike to
i’ve been feelin’ like a goal, like what would mike do?
think again if you think i’m finna fight you
if you d+ck suck to get poppin’, i don’t like you (i don’t)
oh, you gettin’ money? let me see your credit karma (let me see)
brodie brought a stick, now he got two, call him the drummer
steady bringin’ up old sh+t, oh, you the plumber?
shine in the wintertime, i grind in the summer
put an opp head through the door, here’s johnny
tryna get a song on 2k, call ronny
yeah, i got the power, i’ve been feelin’ almighty
cappin’ at his crib, found out he a homebody
the truth might hurt, but them lies dig you deeper (they do)
b+tch takin’ souls, in here hangin’ with the reaper (sh+t)
if she ever crack a smile at you, you can keep her
two bape hoodies what i’m chargin’ for a feature
i’ll end bro career, sweet chin music
know your gun collectin’ dust because you don’t use it
yeah, the storm came, but you gotta know i got through it
didn’t wait for the bag to come, i went and got to it
n+ggas ain’t solid, i done made my mind up (they hoes)
boy, you broke, ain’t got no money for a lineup (d+mn)
i don’t think you on that, it just make you sound tough
i be in my bag, i’m sorry that i’m not around much
linkin’ with these hoes, eatin’ coochie, you a munch (muncher)
pulled up with her friend, she the baddest out the bunch (d+mn)
first designer shoes i ever got was off a punch
throwback thursday, i’m smokin’ on some pink runtz
made her tap out, probably ’cause she’s so submissive
you gon’ catch somethin’ f+ckin’ these dirty b+tches
i be talkin’ crazy, just say that you don’t listen
boy, i’m workin’ ’til i’m rich enough to buy the pistons
rich uncle droppin’ off gifts, saint nick
i’m like, “you remember?” she like, “i got the wrong b+tch” (shut up)
every time i drop, they be like, “dee, you never miss”
she a bad b+tch, just like a thousand for a kiss
bro’ll crash out, but that ain’t somethin’ i condone
she a freaky fam, want me to f+ck her to my song (ayy)
d+ck suckers grind my gears, i really want ’em gone
smokin’ on battista ’cause i swear this sh+t strong
smoke my competition like an eighthy, it’s a mid
how you gettin’ money but don’t take care of your kids?
why you mad? i’m like you gotta get it how you live
you can’t talk that big money if you don’t have a crib
you can talk to the man with the plan
if you tryna make it out ’cause i can show you how it’s layin’
if i pop out, it’s ’bout business, i ain’t with none of the playin’
why these young n+ggas crashin’ out? i don’t understand (i don’t get it)
[outro]
sh+ttyboyz

- trdee lyrics

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