6ix9ine - TROLLZ (with Lyrics & Subtitles)
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6ix9ine - TROLLZ (en) Lyrics
by RentAnAdviser.com
Watch, mhm, Glock, mhm, cocked,
mhm, got it, mhm
You need that? I got it,
this cash, my pockets
The 'Cat one hundred, you
need that? I got it
Need it, got it, cash, pockets
Bands on me, sticks on me
The 'Cat one hundred, you need that?
Yeah, she like how I throw them racks,
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Keep on throwin' that cash, yeah,
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Keep on throwin' that ass, yeah,
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Benz truck in the back, yeah,
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I know you don't like me,
you wanna fight me
You don't want no problems at
your party, don't invite me
I don't worry 'bout you niggas,
please stop talking 'bout me
Always talking 'bout me 'cause
you looking for the clouty
6ix-nina, the 9ine-nina
Riding in a two-seater with two ninas
Baby got that Aquafina, it's cocaina
Smoking on that OG reefer, no TMZ-a
Forgiatos on a Benz truck,
make her friends fuck
Told her she could get Chanel
if she let my friends fuck
Stars shining in the Rolls
Royce, it got red guts
Wait, hold up, nah, I still
don't give a fuck
Vroom, vroom, G5, vroom,
vroom, we high
You the type of nigga that
I never wanna be like
You a type of bitch that
will never get a reply
Hi, hater, bye, hater, vroom
Dollar, dollar bill, come get her
Even your man know Nickis do it better
Always on my page, never
double-tap like me
Baddies to my left and my right
Never chase a corny nigga,
put that on my life
Just put it in his face, all this
cake, he wanted a taste
We sippin' on that Ace, itty-
bitty waist, pretty face
Yeah, eat it, Cookie Monster (Ooh)
He a slave to this pussy,
call me master
Real wet, I said, "Slurp
it like it's pasta"
They get nervous when it's
Nicki on the roster (Rrr)
Somebody usher this nigga
into a clinic
My flow's still sick, I ain't
talkin' a pandemic
I write my own lyrics, a lot
of these bitches gimmicks
They study Nicki style, now
all of them wan' mimic
Talkin' 'bout snitches when
it's snitches in your camp
Never stand alone, you always
itchin' for a stamp
Me, I'm still money, wrists
light up like a lamp
They gon' have to send they
best fighter for the champ
Racks, I got 'em, Mary, I'm poppin'
They keep hatin', but still watchin'
Check the boards, I'm still toppin'
Bustdown or plain jane, I got options
It's a bunch of mini-mes,
I'm the one they mockin'
Showed you how to get a bag,
now you goin' shoppin'
When I come out, all the sneak bitches
start plottin' (Plottin')
When I come out, it's a sweep,
bitches start moppin'
If he like, I throw it fast,
real fast, fast, fast
He singin' my old song, yellin',
"Ass, ass, ass"
They be speedin', tryna beat me,
then they crash, crash, crash
Still a hundred like the number
on my dash, dash, dash
That real ass ain't keep
your nigga home
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