
top 3 - ceo trayle lyrics
[intro]
(gmoney)
yeah
four door
ayy
[chorus]
fifty thousand on his top piece
don’t talk to me ’bout no get*back, n*gga, i k!ll who shot me
ayy, ayy, don’t talk to me ’bout no top five, say four in top three
ayy, that glock don’t ever jam, i x my 43
[verse]
i do it myself, i don’t need no other n*gga recordin’ me
the b*tch can’t buy me a ap, that b*tch can’t afford me, mm
i tried to call that b*tch, stupid*ass b*tch, she forward me
ayy, ballin’ all first half, we just in quarter three
n*gga went to jail and found me, he dropped me a quarter ki’
said he like me, i didn’t talk and these n*ggas talk way more than me
let bruh slide ’cause it was forty*one, it’s supposed to be forty*three
that n*gga said he got some smoke for me, then we goin’ to see
ain’t n0body had kicked no doors for me, n*gga, you know it’s me
you ain’t up that durin’ that robbery, can’t away from me
on that— uh
stop these n*ggas, i’ll pat and frisk n*ggas
winter time when i come out, it’s time to work my wrist, n*gga
son understand the sh*t i’m sayin’, watch him get bigger
n*gga know i’m not no d*mn forgiver and not no forgetter
halloween, n*gga, i’ma be turnt up all the way to december
mr., uh, shoot that motherf*cker, arm, leg out the window
see me, try to go back on all that sh*t you said, remember? (yeah)
b*a*c*k door, that’s just how i’m gon’ play it, n*gga
see a p*ssy n*gga, slap a p*ssy*ass n*gga
i don’t like that n*gga music, that sh*t trash, n*gga
record another song and give it to the trash, n*gga (yeah)
if you f*ck up that bag, i give you, that’s your ass, n*gga
told that b*tch i ain’t nothin’ like your last n*gga
old b*tch bringin’ up old sh*t, left it in the past with her (yeah)
b*tch say that d*ck so good, she d*mn near break my windows
steak and hibachi, n*gga came from chicken dinners
can’t tell who real and who ain’t, n*ggas be pretenders (yeah)
n*gga come down they block trippin’, get put in a blender (yeah)
baby say she soul searchin’, i’m a born sinner (yeah)
bring them glocks right to the show, i perform with ’em (yeah)
sh*t get deeper than you know, you ain’t goin’ in there
baby four, he throw the fours, he a born member
[chorus]
fifty thousand on his top piece
don’t talk to me ’bout no get*back, n*gga, i k!ll who shot me
ayy, ayy, don’t talk to me ’bout no top five, say four in top three
ayy, that glock don’t ever jam, i x my 43
[outro]
fifty thousand on his top piece
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