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wtf is fallin off? - fatt macc lyrics

[intro]
yeah
show me how to get that sh*t gone, man
show a n*gga how to run it up
more money for n*ggas to look out to (kid ace from [?], so you know he trim), n*gga, it’s trap motivation

[chorus]
what the f*ck is fallin’ off if you got clientele? (on god)
ran this sh*t up on my own,i ain’t have n0body help (f*ck ’em)
any n*gga played with it, frrt, frrt, frrt, frrt
any n*gga played with it got hit with a belt

[verse 1]
took down risks, i’ll grow them back (on god)
slept on the floor, the bowls on the pallet (sh*t)
you don’t know the number, you ain’t went to cali’
heard you on your d*ck, you ain’t havin’ (you ain’t havin’)
the player of the month, all the drugs on me (on me)
n*gga got a deal, but he got a budget
i just got a hundred and i ain’t have to tussle
i ain’t gotta post it, n*ggas know i’m trappin’ (trap)
where thе f*ck would i be at if i ain’t have all thesе drugs (drugs)
i still be at the trap gettin’ rid of sh*t, young n*gga juggin’
lemon cherry bag got me eatin’, my pockets full
i could hear the cat up in your rap, these n*ggas trappin’
these n*ggas roadrunner, pack flipper, on god (on god)
i ain’t got no jewelry on, i’m that n*gga (on god)
baby sendin’ them bowls, that boy a pack sitter (the f*ck?)
yeah, i don’t want your ho, i let big rack hit her (phew)
i got all this ice up on my neck, i look like mr. t (trap)
ballin’ on these n*ggas in my sleep, while i’m fake car squeaky clean (yeah)
rich as f*ck, i’m f*ckin’ ratchet b*tches at the bnb (ratchet)
ain’t no way these exotic bowls this cheap, i sold him cpd
j’s on with the nike fleets
can you move a hundred in a week? (can you move a hundred?)
i done sold a hundred in my sleep (a hundred)
you can sell a hundred, if you dreamin’
all the trap n*ggas love fatt
“fatt broke,” you’d love that (love that)
out of bounds, b*tches love fatt (they love fatt)
fast money, i just love trappin’ (on god)
[chorus]
what the f*ck is fallin’ off if you got clientele? (got clientele)
ran this sh*t up on my own, i ain’t have n0body help (ain’t have n0body help)
any n*gga played with it, frrt, frrt, frrt, frrt (frrt)
any n*gga played with it got hit with a belt (got hit with a belt, p*ssy)

[verse 2]
open, knockin’ bowls through the chimney
halt the house, you’ll think it’s christmas (christmas)
tookin’ risks ’cause i had to flip somethin’ (yeah)
two hoes, knock ’em in the middle (b*tch)
dope boy rock the tank*top
pack it up, but it ain’t za
dropped the tape and it ain’t flop (on god)
baby, i’m a real trap n*gga

- fatt macc lyrics

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