Can You Rap Like Me (Pt. 2) Lyrics – Trippie Redd, Chris King
Singer: Trippie Redd, Chris King
Title: Can You Rap Like Me (Pt. 2)
P. Soul on the track
I love Trippie Redd
Yeah, big blunts, I like to roast up
***** get no love and no luck, I don’t f*ckin’ know ya
Chillin’ with the gang, I like to post up
Get up off the block if I don’t know you
You dealin’ with some soldiers that ride with the motherf*ckin’ pole, bruh
I ride with the motherf*ckin’ pole, bruh
I rise with the motherf*ckin’ pole, bruh
And you know a motherf*cker pop a sealy, pop a pilly
Pop a n*gga head like Amoxicillin
I’m a villain, really don’t show no pity
I’m high saditty to these b*tches
B*tch, she hot and juicy, I’m hot and gritty
How you hot and sh*tty? Wait
‘Cause sh*t hot, but you know your sh*t not
My sh*t make the whole city rock
And Diddy bop, I spit it off the *****-top
And if you don’t like it, then f*ck n*gga, eat a itty-bitty **** (Yeah)
Eeny-meeny-miney-moe, catch a thottie by her toe
If I let her go, then I’ll prolly f*ck another ho (Snotty Nose Mafia, b*tch)
I stack the paper like a binder, she slimy, she not a rider
A n*gga got bars, who’s your service provider?
Still searching for a lighter, too many that sound just like us
We get rewarded for the likeness, get too many plaques like gingivitis
Got the touch like King Midas, I eat the beat, I get the ‘itis
Create-a-player, I ball, it’s like I turned up all the sliders
Okay, pop a sealy like amoxicillin
When I pop the trigger, drop a n*gga
Then he shook his body like a macarena
Mop a stranger, he was starin’ straight, catchin’ improper angles
God can’t save you, slap my b*tch from the back, call it Palm’s Angels
I bet when a n*gga hop up, b*tches, they’ll be all angry
I told Trippie three years ago that this game was ours, n*gga
Bathing Ape face mask like these rappers got ****, n*gga
I be in the background, you can see that I’m a star, n*gga
I got where I am being exactly who I are, n*gga
You ain’t protected at the garage, out your car, n*gga
I’m the bomb just like a warhead, go to war just like a jar-head
Give this dog a bone and think I wasn’t gon’ catch it like that sh*t was farfetched
Young n*gga, stayin’ on point just like a bayonet
We rollin’ top down, bummin’ on the main street, then I sprayed the ‘Vette
Just a young n*gga but I been doin’ it for so long they gotta praise the vet
For my n*ggas on lockdown, and the crimies that really plead the fifth
Pourin’ lean inside the booth, yeah, I am multitasking, make multi-millions
M-16 and blow up your blow-up mattress, you know what’s brackin’
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Lyrics Trippie Redd, Chris King – Can You Rap Like Me (Pt. 2)
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