Lil Wayne - Trust Fund (with Lyrics & Subtitles)
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Lil Wayne - Trust Fund (en) Lyrics
by RentAnAdviser.com
Could have bought a house, but
I bought a Jesus piece
Could have thought they were the
feds how they stalkin' me
Could have put her in Chanel,
she from overseas
Could have bought a Plain Jane,
but her wrist freeze
Pocket full of Maserati,
full of swiss cheese
Could have pulled up on a Jet,
but did the Jet Skis
X pills triple stacked like Wendy's
Walkin' round with the
9 like I'm Drew Brees
Shootin' those boys, takin' Mickey D's
Tunechi in the lamb truck,
I'm in thе Bentley B
You was tryna' get a dеal,
I told him "Sign to me"
All my niggas Rich Forever,
how it gotta be
Wait, all you niggas bitch forever,
you can't lie to me
Better go and get your Reverend,
let the choir sing
Goin' hard like a wedding
on a Diamond ring
AR keep spinnin' like a slot machine
Now a nigga Rich Forever, they gon'
call me (They gon' call me)
Coach, put me in the game, I've been
balling (I've been balling)
I was countin' up the hundreds till
the morning (The morning)
We was getting to them racks while
they snoring (Snoring, yeah)
Tryna make a mill', that's easy
Bought a brand new Patek,
all water, that's Fiji
The niggas who hatin', they
really wan' be me
You see that I'm Rich, back
then didn't believe me
Bitch stop, it's lonely at the top
I just heard my ears pop
A fiend for the guap, like
Pookie Chris Rock
Fuck her for some Gucci socks
She gon' have to run the
top, for the flip flops
Yeah, boy stop
Run up on the opp, I just
saw his heart drop
My bitches on the base, I
feel like a shortstop
And I just caught a case,
I'ma still ball out
Till I ain't got no more fouls
Now a nigga Rich Forever,
they gon' call me
Coach, put me in the game,
I've been balling
I was countin' up the hundreds
till the morning
We was getting to them racks
while they snoring
I get the bag and go straight
to the plug
And I buy his ass out
And now it's a drought
Fuck on my hoe tilI I tire her ass out
My watch face drippin'
I had to ask it "What
you cryin' about?"
Flyin' her out
She get back home she
be runnin' her mouth
Pick a Bugatti up, put
the Cullinan down
Tell your friends I'll fly
every one of them down
Put 'em on a jet, tell 'em
meet me in the islands
Said she wanna fuck me and
all of my diamonds
My shooter from the trenches, got
a chain, yeah, he shinin'
Let Gram drive the Bentley and
he crashed on the mileage
I'm Rich like fuck it
If I gotta bring your friend,
then she fuckin'
I was broke that hoe left somethin'
Haters talkin' 'bout a
whole lot of nothin'
I just felt my ears pop
A friend for the guap, like
Pookie Chris Rock
Pull up on the jet, jet skis, or yacht
Broke bitches that's a pet
peeve, call blocked
Pockets like they got
hickeys, all knots
We just go to war, no keys, warlock
Ran up on the opp, saw
that boy heart drop
Bitches on the base, I
feel like a shortstop
I just caught a case,
but I still ball out
Trust Fund
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