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trl - all good lyrics

[intro]
(313 mafia)
camp boyz, n+gga
camp sh+t, camp guyz
it’s ups and downs in this sh+t, f+ck it, though
(stupiddog, i ain’t gon’ lie, this b+tch hard)

[verse 1]
ayy, sh+t ain’t all good, ain’t all bad
my b+tch thick with no waist, she got all ass
showin’ what to do with that pape’, what you call class
knew how i want, n+gga, i don’t need no hall pass
you give my name to the hoes and get on dog ass
when i was down on my d+ck, where was y’all at? (where was you?)
a hundred racks on me now, n+gga, all cash (racks)
grab an eight, celebrate with a tall glass
we gettin’ money and the hoes know that b+tch facts
bite her then break her down, sh+t, kit+kat
your b+tch starin’ at my d+ck, you better l!ck that
can’t make love when we f+ck, i don’t kiss rats (never)
we got on the boys’ top, they ain’t get back (nеver)
don’t compare us to them n+ggas that’s a mismatch
shе won’t leave me ‘lone, come and get your b+tch back (come get her)
think she only f+ckin’ you? bro, that’s big cap (cap)
big racks, big bl!cks, we the big camp (camp boyz)
sh+t stop when i bust, she like to kidnap
i love this chop, i’ma name my son fitsacks
i’ve been loadin’ up this month, this my tenth strap
[verse 2]
rob a n+gga for his gun, get your bl!ck back
pop is light as h+ll, poured an eight, now this b+tch black
‘wood full of cookie in my lungs, blowin’ big thrax
k!ll an opp, then spin that b+tch again and get the whip wrapped
i’ll send a reaper to your door if i ever got a problem
he keep braggin’ ’bout some money, but ain’t seen a hundred thousand
i ain’t wanna take it all off, i hit his b+tch and boxed her
i ain’t want her in my call log, i hit the b+tch and blocked her
h+llcats and trackhawks, see the whip the fastest
we could have a one+on+one with hoes, let’s see who b+tch the baddest
let’s see if you a ho or not, who up they bl!ck the fastest?
louis drippin’, bought the gucci bomber, we don’t do the balis
hop out in dior, we on rodeo, let’s go trip in cali
fly to the a, matter fact, let’s go to new york
be done saw a quarter million cash, bae, they hop out the porch (stupiddog, i ain’t gon’ lie, this b+tch hard)
if she ain’t tryna hit her knees, then she can hit the door
pull it out the oven, this b+tch hot like a sauna floor
cut into a n+gga for no reason, i’m just tryna horse

[outro]
b+tch+ass n+gga, yeah
catch an opp out in traffic, i’m just tryna horse, n+gga
camp world, n+gga, camp guyz, n+gga, camp sh+t
y’all n+ggas zombie hoes, always tryna

- trl lyrics

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