business trip - tay b lyrics
[intro: tay b]
hmm, yeah
all facts, lil’ n*gga, hmm
can’t be f*cked with, you feel me?
[verse 1: tay b]
i ain’t havin’ fun in la, this a business trip
drop on an opp, i hit his block and start sendin’ sh*t
f*ck the cops, i’m only worried ’bout the witnesses
i can’t hang around no n*gga who don’t benefit
lil’ n*gga, this a bentley truck, it’s not a genesis
lil’ cuz in the feds got caught with a switch and sh*t
same n*ggas hatin’, same hoes, you ain’t missin’ sh*t
[verse 2: babytron]
thirty shows in forty days, then back to michigan
it was local, now it’s global, sh*t, i’m booked in switzerland
the move i hit that lil’ b*tch with, it’s meant for finishin’
you would think that cuddy starvin’, askin’ where the kitchen is
what the f*ck’s an l? you either get a win or learn a lesson
this a hybrid, when it get to e, just watch it turn electric
thinkin’ hoеs deserve it, your namе deacon ham from servin’ blessings
wocky in the bimmer, am i german? hit the curb and wreck it
[verse 3: tay b]
mansion party, we got fifty b*tches, it’s just me and tron
you think i’m only gettin’ money, you should see the guys
tell a freak ho come eat this d*ck, i don’t wine and dine
your mans died, you hit his b*tch, boy, you outta line
you gon’ let me f*ck or naw? i’m tay dollar signs
you got a handful of pennies, still’ll drop a dime
if it ain’t ’bout m’s, my name won’t go up on no dotted line
before you get some bumps up on your tongue, you better stop the lyin’
[verse 4: babytron & tay b]
play with me or mines gon’ have you rockin’ ties
take a six and turn my cream into some rock & rye
wrong place, wrong time, i am not the guy
eyes on the backdoor, i told tay to watch the side
pull up to his family function, make him cha*cha slide
golden*state*grew weed, it got me zaza fried
all that prayin’, hatin’, but my fate, only god decide (yeah)
time to run it up a hundred times, make sure my yaggas tied (huh)
[verse 5: tay b & babytron]
i got a s*xy redbone, she like dreadheads
y’all n*ggas was laughin’ at his post, now y’all mans dead
up a pic spreadin’ blues, made her legs spread
when i ain’t in the booth, come cop, i’m the yeah man
i only hang with solid n*ggas, you got fed friends
whack a n*gga, make him how high, call him redman
ballin’ like a piston, neck lit, left wrist a richard
young as h*ll, posted on the corner like i’m derek fisher
i really been rich around this b*tch, y’all just ain’t get the picture
all these hoes d*ck suck too much, i can’t even kiss you
line of quagen and a line of trish, f*ck around and mix ’em
f*ck them n*ggas, i sh*t on them boys, dog sh*t militia
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