7 minutes - ceo trayle lyrics
[intro]
(stribb on the beat)
yeah
i’m back in this b*tch again, i’m back in this b*tch again
i still got— uh, uh, i still got— for the ten
i still got— uh, yeah
[verse]
i still got two for the five, uh, still got three for the ten, uh
i still get four for the twenty, yeah, you get the seven for the bin
had to drop off my lil’ b*tch, yeah, i still got some corners to bend
yeah, i doubled the cup up again, uh, i doubled the money again
yeah, i just hit the lil’ b*tch again, uh, the b*tch wanna live in my skin, uh
know backdoor gon’ go for the win, uh*huh, i switched up the plates and the vin
uh, if you want smoke, n*gga, puff it, all you need to do, drop the pin
yeah, i don’t talk beef, i don’t discuss it, uh, i shoot out the back of the benz
uh, big 4 in the photo
hold on, lookin’ for n*ggas to roll on
double the cup and i pop oxycodone
b*tch, am i spendin’ the night? hold on
i’m tryna go get the check, put my bro on
get the racks, i might pose for a photo
with my dog like he motherf*ckin’ toto
i’m puttin’ belt to these n*ggas, i’m dolo
n*gga just kick this sh*t solo
in the court i was pleading the nolo
she in gucci, i’m rockin’ manolo
he an opp, he get smoked like a ‘rillo
n*ggas talkin’ to b*tches and pillows
malcolm x with the drac’ at the window
i was mixin’ that opp with the indo
baby drac’ and the clip is extendo
yeah, i let her blow on this sh*t like she tryna start the game of nintendo
yeah, my brother like reese and dewey, i’m out with the drac’ in the middle
they ain’t know i came straight out the ghetto
know i’m droppin’ the bag, n*gga, get low
had ’em takin’ you to the hospital
if that p*ssy dry, bet i won’t spit on it
and if i ain’t on no gangster sh*t, i’m with my brother and i know i bet he gon’ get on it
these n*ggas be droppin’ they money on n*ggas, then get on they ig and vent on it
off the top, ain’t no pad or no pen on it
tryna pull up to his block and we spin on it
got the juice, but i ain’t got no gin on it
d*mn, the hate be strong, have you lookin’ like what you did wrong?
but it’s really these n*ggas ain’t right
ayy, ayy, have qb throw the bomb and i’m gone
she said, “backdoor, can you f*ck me for long?
that’s what you said in that motherf*ckin’ song”
i’m in the trap with the scale and the ‘bow
i’m with my dog like a motherf*ckin’ bone
i got this motherf*ckin’ 9 and it’s black
i got this big old 4*5 and it’s chrome
and these n*ggas wan’ be like big back
i think these n*ggas my motherf*ckin’ clones
you know big back in the back of the ‘bach
b*a*c*h if you n*ggas didn’t know
i put my back to that motherf*ckin’ door
i put my foot through this b*tch and it’s on
n*gga defensin’, we playin’ a zone
mm, but don’t think i’ll let you get wrong
don’t think we tolerate no disrespect
don’t think we just rappin’ motherf*ckin’ songs
and don’t say sh*t you gon’ f*ckin’ regret
i’ll drop the bag, have your partner get on
the percocet 20 so motherf*ckin’ strong
i’ma be high for so motherf*ckin’ long
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