What It Is - Fat Trel

YB On The Beat

Huh (huh), gang

Fat Trel man you know what the fuck it do

Hold up

My youngins just comin' to kill, my bitch on a blunt and a pill

I’m pourin' my drink out the seal, my homie keep tellin' me chill

I want that money forever, I had to get it together

And that bitch gon' do what I tell her, I think that shit for the better

I wanna whip in the Wraith, I wanna pour up an eight

I wanna make me a play, fuck it, I’ma just go out of state

I’ma pull up with the K, I let it shoot at your face

We done been trappin' for days, yeah, we done been at it for days, yeah

I want the profit I just finished shopping at Gucci and Louis, it’s poppin'

She on my dick 'cause she see all the diamonds, I’m shinin,' she know that I

got it

I just pulled up on the oppers, I promise they told me they don’t want no

problems

I’ma still get it, then whip it, then flip it, then send it right back to the

shottas

I just turned one into two, and then two into three, and I do it for chief

She suckin' dick in the back of the whip and she only gon' do it for Gleesh

(mwah)

I’ma keep reppin' the set for whatever’s left, and do it to death

I’ma pull up with the TEC and shoot at your chest, I want the respect

I’ma come through with the kid, fuck doin' the bid, I come where you live

If he owe me money I come and confront him like fuck it, 'cause that’s what it

is

And if that bitch jam I go in my pants, I’m comin' back out with the shit

Just me and my man, take over the land, with xans and duckin' the pigs

Wait, blow out the lid, pull up and get you a bid

Pull up too late and I left, I whip up the dough like a chef

You better have you a vest, this money I probably invest

It’s funny I used to collect, I’m fuckin' my bitch on a jet

She told me I need to relax, I told her she needed a bag

She told me she needed a plan B, I told her she needed a cab

I’m only in love with the cash, the money is comin' so fast

I see the police on my ass, how long is this shit gonna last?

I’m rollin', I hope I don’t crash, it’s Miami Heat on the tags

I keep me a Glock in the stash, I’m whippin' this bitch like a Jag

I’m mixin' Patrón with the Rémy, I walk on the beach with the semi

It’s me and PT, we got plenty, my bitch just pulled up in a Hemi

You niggas been playin' it fifty, my niggas just keep it one hundred

I purchase the work and you fronted, I promise we got it, you want it

But still I just stunt it and I done it, pour out the rosé I don’t want it

Pull up on the oppers, we huntin', my youngins’ll kill you for nothin'

She said it was wet but it wasn’t, he said it would jump but it doesn’t

The work comin' fresh out the oven, I’m fuckin' this bitch and her cousin

I walk in the trap and its pubbin', he want it, I told him I’m comin'

These choppers he better be runnin'

On my mama he better be runnin', yeah

Choppers he better be runnin'

On my mama he better be runnin'

On my mama he better be runnin', yeah

Yeah, choppers he better be runnin'

Choppers he better be runnin'

On my mama he better be runnin', yeah