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don’t trust a soul (7th avenue version) - mil beats & westside gunn lyrics

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[intro]
grrr
f*ck
grrr
ayo
luxurious fly sh*t
don’t f*ck with me, yo
i blow your f*ckin’ head off, yo
real sh*t

[verse 1]
ayo
ayo, the rich saw trump
shot up his whip, left him on the steering wheel slumped
grippin’ the pump
shooter was lunching
he pulled over and took a bump (sniff)
the s6 from selling bricks
top 3’s on dice games throwing trips
megabus, it out of duct tape
some supreme homies screaming “f*ck bape” (f*ck ’em!)
so bape homies screaming “f*ck supreme” (f*ck ’em!)
laying on the cot it was all a dream
sly green up in ’83
trey pound no safety
my youngins shooting like kd
dope spot all week, same hoodie, same jeans
just took a loss in the place
it’s f*cked up when your fam change
[chorus]
i don’t trust a f*ckin’ soul
expect the sole on my gucci loafers
expect the sole on my gucci loafers
expect the sole on my gucci loafers
i don’t trust a motherf*cking soul
expect the sole on my gucci loafers
expect the sole on my gucci loafers
expect the sole on my gucci loafers

[verse 2]
maniac with a gat
shopping cracks in hundred packs, guess jumper triangle on the flat, blat
old stove new pot rocking [?]
don’t give a f*ck where we at
broad day hit the n*gga, took the mask off
the illest n*gga in nebraska
known in the coke spots as nunu
15 hundred my little n*gga do you
sniff a line the n*gga turn coo*coo
chopping bricks off like i’m lulu
supply the whole strip
big chain, your b*tch on my d*ck

[chorus]
i don’t trust a motherf*cking soul
expect the sole on my gucci loafers
expect the sole on my gucci loafers
i don’t trust a motherf*cking soul
uh uh
expect the sole on my gucci loafers
f*ck you n*ggas
[outro]
i don’t trust a motherf*cking soul, n*gga
fly sh*t
the illest sh*t ever
i can’t even help myself, n*gga, i’m god

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