Trippie Redd – MANSION MUSIK Lyrics




(I’m shy, oh my God)
Yeah, yeah

N***** wanna be my kin, pussy, you not my folks, uh
Ridin’ ’round town in a Benz, put that bitch on spokes
Spent eight mil’ on a crib, bought that bitch with a moat
Bitch, I just got rich, let’s have a goddamn toast
Step on a n**** in Ricks, got on a cranberry coat
Yeah, it’s just me and my ho, snake eyes, bitch, like a G.I. Joe
Baby, sit back, just smoke my dope, go get your brother, I heard that he croak
Put that on your mother, I know y’all hoes, still gotta stick to the code
Boy, I get in that mode, don’t play with me, boy, this shit ain’t for show
Eighty-eight keys, no piano, gotta get it how you live, that’s my MO
Yeah, she want the whole thing, not the demo
Pull in through a tunnel in my Maybach limo
Yeah, she want double trouble, that’s akimbo
Whip her head back and forth, not no Willow
Get that n**** out that horse, feel like Django
Sendin’ shots everywhere, I feel like Rambo
Call of Duty, bitch, pull up with commandos
I might buy a yacht, feel like Jack Sparrow
Posted in the field like a damn scarecrow
And my brother sellin’ white like some ashy elbows
Shawty, what’s your name? Put you in Chanel, ho
I ain’t even at the beach, but I could send some shells, ho
Gotta get the all-black Ricks, shell toes
Keep all of that gangster shit up off the cell phone
My brother in the hole, we can’t talk off the jail phone
With my brothers in the streets, man, I feel like Elmo
Sending all the shots and I got all the ammo
Got this shit lit like a damn candle
Pop a n****’s top like a damn canned good
Chrome Heart shades look like some Ray-Bans, yeah
Red car, red bag, feel like Santa
Red bandana, here to fuck your plans up
What’s up in your head? You want some smoke, some cancer?
Pussy, get your bands up, codeine in the Fanta
Put them poles on you n*****, turn you into dancers
Yeah, AK-47 with a damn banana, uh
Turn a pussy block into a damn bonanza
I got white like Hannah, proud of me like Tana
They got pigs at they crib like they in Alabama
Sippin’ 1942 mixed with Tropicana
Pour a four, skadoosh, Kung Fu Panda
With the gangsters and the robbers chilling in Atlanta
Feds hit the trap, throw the codeine in the blammer
I’m on Magnolia, cops puttin’ me in handcuffs

800 gang
1400 (Bah)
Big 14 (Bah), know what the fuck going on (Bah)
Gang (Bah), gang
(I’m shy, oh my God)