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lirik lagu i dont trust my bitch / old red – lil yachty

part i:

you in a drought!
i don’t trust my b*tch
e*ever
n*gga, you don’t love your baby mama, n*gga, you love me, b*tch! (huh, huh, yeah)
i don’t trust my b*tch
she don’t trust me either
booted up in the bed, she was geeked up on sativa
d*mn, b*tch, you a diva
hide all my jewelry when i go to sleep at night cause
i don’t trust my b*tch
i don’t trust no b*tch
n*gga, i don’t trust you either, n*gga, or these slime ass b*tches, you a p*ssy ass n*gga (ever)
i don’t even trust these b*tches i’m with, n*gga
you a broke ass, lil’ d*ck ass n*gga (yeah, yeah)
the f*ck? (go)
b*tch can’t get my last
b*tches mad at me ’cause i won’t pay cash for ass
‘leventh grade, sellin’ hydrocodones in class
look like a regular bl!ck, you press this b*tton, it’s gon’ blast (flrrt!)
i’ve never seen my b*tch house
made a b*tch come to me every time
peanut, i need all them phones
sticks and stones might break my bones, that’s why i keep chrome
i dropped a b*tch off right in the kitchen
so many plays on the phone, start glitchin’
“he say, she say,” bullsh*t
came back to me one*hundred percent fiction
patek phillipe, never had me a nixon
i fell in love with a video vixen
i never go to sleep in front my b*tches
trust in the process, believe in the vision
part ii:

i got a thick b*tch poppin’ off 2 valiums
halfway sleep while slidin’
this b*tch think i’m childish
put my foot on her head, and her back like goblin
i need an old school ’64
ride around town, mac*10 on my right hip
back in my days, all the glocks had a long clip
back in my, back in my, back in my, back in my
back on my old b*tch, spinnin’ the curb
off of the syrup, i’m slurrin’ my words
fill my ‘script, my b*tch like percs
i’m with draft day, we don’t f*ck with you nerds
i was 18 with a dub in my jeans
muslim lil’ b*tch like to call me, “kareem”
[?], i just popped me a bean
[?] in my hand, i’ma [?] like [?]
reckless as h*ll, put my foot on her head
jump on that b*tch like an old trampoline
really too rich, my new b*tch is a fiend
pretty as h*ll, she in love with bottega
come to the ‘crete, gotta meet the omega
concrete boys, we the new takers
[?] gon’ give him h*ll
brand new brick, brand new bale
hear y’all just came up an m
hmm, really? i can’t tell
still, free all of my brims
still, molly in my timb’s
still, six hoes on my line
treat them just like sims
let’s flip a coin for your b*tch, like a kickoff
she wanna f*ck me, she takin’ my rick off
upset as h*ll, gotta go get this sh*t off
might drop the top on the east, let the stick off
posted outside had to get me a*
i had to get me a fit off
really too rich, i had got me assistants
got me two sisters, suck on my pickle
snuck in the club with that [?] nickel
f*ckin’ a substitute teacher from brickle
stopped drinkin’ lean, but if p pull up with some old red
sh*t, i might have me a little

- lil yachty

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