Lyrics Travis Thompson – Mobbin’
Text:
Travis Thompson:
Okay, I’m doing pretty good as far as geniuses go
Upper left to my death, but I’m getting cream on each coast
I mean, I reap what I sow
I’m off to beam in my home, and I’ll probably fuck ‘fore I sleep
It’s a couple hating from a local LA fitness — sleeved up
Mad they dreams ain’t working, so they try to hate on me — what?
If I was y’all, I wouldn’t broadcast my business
I got paper, work my job ’cause Twitter ain’t where my business is
I had holes in my shirt from ripping sensors, my mama stressing
Now, I fly to Manhattan office — get blessed with whole collections
It’s a new game
And they’re starting the feeling — my old friends
Your budget resemble my loose change
My boot-chain all fucked up — y’all new prey
I’m next up, bitch — you late
Recap my past six:
Tyler bought a beam and a rollie, a brand new mattress
I bought a bunch of drugs, and I really haven’t looked back since
Y’all past-tense, I’m staff-picked
Don’t blast us, we’re average
Your wack-shit like cappin’ — I’m good
Just watch and take notes, imagine you could
I put stats on my books, I’m like, «that’s what it took?»
I need Am Walks for Ambaum, I’m papped to my hood
And that’s facts ’til the day over, I pray that you stay with us
Did Sway with a hangover, we used to sell painkillers
I’m way different
I’m way different
Said: ride, grinning wide with my feet up
Down the 509, rolling weed up — mobbin’
Do a little much, I need to ease up
You could gun it, imma run it, couldn’t keep up — mobbin’
Ride, grinning wide with my feet up
Down the 509, rolling weed up — mobbin’
Do a little much, I need to ease up
You could gun it, imma run it, couldn’t keep up — mobbin’
Laza:
Running, checking my Adidas, they say adios
I’m the shit, I guess my party yields a pot of gold
Know a couple move away just like they pop a loaf
Know a couple moving snake, you see my line is more
Can’t make you no promise
I need to tap on my roof as a test because it could go missing in traffic
Whether I spin it, to flip it, to make it, make it, make it — back as a prophet
Waiting on mama’s and poppy
Laughing ’cause I got some options
Moves are black, I feel it back
I swerve through lanes, I’m cape-done
Need bank like K all caked up
Don’t play like J, K made off
Can’t save her
No, you can’t save her
Travis Thompson:
Said: ride, grinning wide with my feet up
Down the 509, rolling weed up — mobbin’
Do a little much, I need to ease up
You could gun it, imma run it, couldn’t keep up — mobbin’
Ride, grinning wide with my feet up
Down the 509, rolling weed up — mobbin’
Do a little much, I need to ease up
You could gun it, imma run it, couldn’t keep up — mobbin’
Mobbin’