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0-100 - fat trel lyrics

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verse : fat trel

i heard some n-ggas in my city talk crazy (talk crazy!)
but is they really in my city, n-gga maybe?
can’t say they name, we don’t make the same wage
even if it’s world star, we ain’t on the same page

shaking my f-ckin’ head, i’m shooting the same k
crackers, give me a grade, lock me up in the cage
so i can eliminate, my vicious criminal ways
pop a molly or two and i spark a swisher with haze

sittin’ sideways, and you n-ggas is g-y
this industry sh-t a game, i don’t think i wanna play
i know this b-tch in love, i don’t think she wanna say
she “says” she wants some d-ck, i don’t think she wanna pay

finna fly to la (..la)
baby on the way, and i’ma love ’em every day
no matter what “his mother” say
get your sh-t together, what my older brother say
and i’m d-cking b-tches, on jets they think it’s snakes on a plane

some sh-t’ll never change, stone-cold game
police is taking pictures and they know my whole name
37 on the chain, maybach murder gang
since i spent my whole advance, i ain’t been the same

swerve in my lane, all-black range
you p-ssy n-ggas faker than them all-black chains
bright pinky-ring, roley on my wrist
c-ck-blocking like a goalie cause he know she on my d-ck (…b-tch)

black (tail wrists) on my homeys, on the list -can’t forget!!-
my b-tches only know me for good d-ck
say my brother name and i pull up on your strip
no fight with the fists, bullets swinging from the hip

too legit to quit, too much money on my mental
in my city, we’ll put them bodies in them rentals (..in them rentals)
and then we burn that rental up
and take a shot, and smoke a blunt, now what the f-ck is really up?!

and we don’t give a motha-f-ck about them other n-ggas (.. other n-ggas)
and when you f-cking with / who f-cking with / them other n-ggas(..other n-ggas)
in duffle bags, and all the p-ssy is coming with us
at 30 popping a hundred shots, in the drama with us

now come and get this boy, you probly see your momma with us
with all the drinking and smoking, you know the drama with us
i put the ice on the p-ssy, i tell it “cool down”
that was miami though, she coolin’ with a dude now

i’m back in cali, in the valley, i’m a fool now
they hear my crip, short-stop, bring ’em tools down
i’m in the east, j pink’s bright two freaks
threw heaters in the back, black two-seaters

i like to let my tatts show, black wife beaters
i like to keep a lot of thots, black pipe eaters
night creepin’, never was the type to like divas
i see a hundred dollar bottle, with my 2 liter

i got rich and i didn’t get it from school either
i didn’t get it from the court, i got it from the bleach
i got it from the bleachers
still middle finger, f-ck the teacher– let’s get it

- fat trel lyrics

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