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trenches - tippa dior lyrics

[verse c montana]

most of these rappers fake, they ain’t have a food
getting mad bricks and making mad moves
fam, i rather die, never lie on a rap tune
real stories what i spit on these beats
if you scared of feds n-gga, get out of the streets
you can’t handle the head, n-gga stay out of the sun
cuz, i handle the head, like my hands on the gun
if my n-gga catch a case, the they out on the run
catch a flight to dubai, kick back in the sun
too much talking on the phone, my little n-gga, fam he never listen
so now he’s in the foreign prison, fighting extra edison
feds know i’m a different type of villain
make millions, we across borders
chasing cash, i’m a transporter
about to show these streets a definicion of a real baller
shot caller, block locker, top shotta
i handle distribution like i’m sony
why you think i gotta whole load of different rolleys
i treat the trap like my strap, i just spray grams
then i ball out like michael jordan in his sp-ce jam

- tippa dior lyrics

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