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tripstar, moneybagg yo, est gee & cmg the label - top dolla lyrics

[intro: tripstar]
(e+e+e+enrgy made this one)
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, woah
what?

[verse 1: tripstar]
penthouse suite, top floor
prices got cheap, we just let ’em go
woah, watch my n+gga spend a hundred k on a plain watch
told him, “give me ten more days, i’ma get me one”
[verse 2: moneybagg yo]
two+hundred occasion (what you do?), i gave ’em (i gave)
thumbin’ through the payment in the rental car from avis (backend)
withdraw on that wocky, i shrivel up like a raisin (real)
my n+gga trip black as h+ll, but he sell caucasian (jungle fever)

[verse 3: tripstar]
white dopе, i sell it to my white folks
i ain’t racist ’bout that paper, i ain’t goin’ brokе
pint of hi+tech red (mud), gotta put that sh+t up on your head
i got bad b+tches textin’ me like, “where you at?”
walkin’ out of st. regis with fifty in my britches
get the drank dirt cheap when i go cross the bridge (woah)
count a hundred+fifty bucks out, it got me dizzy

[verse 4: moneybagg yo]
spend it, i f+cked off an eighty ball with izzy (necklace)
let her wear my chain, got my pendant on her titties (look)
off the yacht to the jet just to see the grizzlies (book)
jason said, “you cuttin’ it close, you got a show, you trippin'” (woah)
i’m not missin’ that cornbread, be there in a jiffy (gone)

[verse 5: tripstar & moneybagg yo]
they said that it gotta be in you, it can’t be on you (woah)
but i got it in me and it’s on me, what you want?
woah, poker face when i see the plug, we talkin’ business
plain richard millie, so them white folks take me serious
in a meetin’ with ’em, legs crossed, hand on my chin (grin)
tryna negotiate me a label deal for ten
i want in, i won’t drop the ball, i bet we win
woah, they be like, “trip, is you sellin’ fent’?” nah
five red b+tches, that’s a— (take your time, hold up)
five red b+tches, that’s a fin ball
[verse 6: est gee]
two bricks of soft in the loft
hit it and you winnin’ in the kitchen like it’s golf (kitchen like it’s golf)
was tryna get it off, so i front him what he bought
i don’t talk numbers with runners, sh+t, n+gga, i’m a boss
and we gon’ drop you off, talkin’ ’bout you ain’t tryna spin
i’m throwed, i be thinkin’ ’bout a soul when i grin
n+ggas hoes, i had ‘bows way before it was a trend (soft ass n+gga)
only rap beef i had died before it ever began (on my mama)
real street n+gga trappin’, gettin’ high and smokin’ cigs
could turn it back to drop, blow it up and make it big

- tripstar moneybagg yo est gee cmg the label lyrics

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