Текст Fat Trel – Zonin’

Roll with your bitch
Smoke with my clique
She all on my dick
I know I’m the shit
They call me Fat Trel, skip over the jail
Mother-fuck the cell
I just pay the bail
I just pay the bond. (muah)
I just pay your Mom. (muah)
I just payed for five arms to spray up the prom. (baow!)
How I get it
Live it how it’s written
Lovely how I spit it
Money never trick it
Bitches always get it
Pussy never split it
How I get with it
See you when I miss it
And I love to twerk, smoke a lot of purp
All my bitches, all my bitches love to work. (muah)
Perfect, fuckin’ nurses
You worthless, I’m walking shirtless. (baow!)
With a 30 on me
Got ’bout 30 on me
You don’t want it homie
Got ’bout 30 on me

And I’m real high
G Star fly
Call me Fat Gleesh
Fat Popeye. (baow!)
Call me Fat Trel. (baow!)
Skip over the jail. (baow!)
Fuck the cell. (baow!)
Just count the mail. (baow!)
Just pay the bail. (baow!)
Dolo what you know. (baow!)
4 nights, good weed, backwood smoke. (baow!)
Oochie Wally Mami
She fuckin’ Oochie
She fuckin’ Trel
We eating sushi
I’m eating coochie
Shell trife
Me, I need your wife
And I need her tonight
I need her with ice
And Rose
And Bombay
Gin, and watch me gets it in. (muah)
Phone he know my man
No he not my friend
Phone short me, that’s the SB
Car shade, that’s the SG
Roll ’round with Boosa
Boosa be my shooter. (baow!)
Boosa got a Ruger. (baow!)
Clip look like the ruler. (baow!)
Aimed at your medulla. (baow!)
You don’t want work. (baow!)
We don’t want problems
We just want the purp
I just want your bitch
Lift up her skirt
Fuck me like she love me
Although I’m ugly
Although I’m dirty, still walk with 30’s. (baow!)
Still smoking ounces
I’m with the mountains
I’m with the trees, give her what she needs
She say she need me, that’s Fat Gleesh
She say she need weed, with no seeds
She say she need Sprite, she need lean
She say she needs molly, she needs beans
She say she need a dream, she need a team
She say she needs some shows, need some shirts
She say she needs clothes, she need a hearse
Cause I killed, murked, and I’m smoking purp
Goons still lurk
Boosa still twerk
Call ’em Bam-Bams or call ’em, grams
Watch out for your bags, look out for your man
Look out for your mother, lie for your brother. (baow!)
Die for your man, make ’em understand. (baow!)
Motherfuck the judge, walk with a grudge
Walking with a 40 and I’m walking with a mug
Walking ’round with drugs, two quarts
It’s real life, fuck what you thought
It’s Fat Trel, it’s Fat Gleesh
I’m north-east
We E-Street
Hey Bam-Bams, we SB
Do what we want
Fuck who we want
Say what we want
Smoke what we want
Drink what we want
Blink if you want. (baow!)
You gon’ die
My niggas gon’ ride
Your homicide look like suicide
When are you gon’ realize?
That Fat Trel certified, that’s why my Twitter verified
I never lie
I never play. (baow!)
All I did was fry. (baow!)
See you the team, but I’m the coach
I call the plays
I sell the coke
I make the dope
I’m smoking smoke
I’m drinking drink
I love to toke
So fuck you mean?
My whip clean
It’s not mines, it came from 45
Shovel fuckin’ road, that’s to leave you stowed
Bitch you know I roll, smoking Nova Scotia
Drinking on some potion
Call that shit La Poach
And her skin soft, that’s a good lotion
And you not strokin’, strokin’
And she let me poke it
And the beat gone, but the beat not open