Trap Vibes - Meek Mill

Turn me up some Cruz

I told Barcelini if them niggas hating they gon suffer

I’m goin up a hundred every day

You know how I play!

Skinny nigga in the Benz truck

Swinging through like a nunchuck

Summertime bring them 30s out

Tell Cool put the sticks up

Wait hold up, hold up

How can niggas go against us?

Cold pussies wouldn’t even shoot us

See us roll on em like a lint brush

Phil moving out them bandos

We ain’t leaving til the brick’s done

Couple hundred, we gon vac seal em

Just to ride with it like a Brinks truck

Wait, wait, Louboutins and the wrist bust

Bitch you claiming I done been fuck

You ain’t even gotta trip, bruh

In the trenches in the Maybach

Fuck I even got the tint for?

I’m the only nigga got one

Who the fuck I gotta hide from?

Barcelini riding shotgun

Shooters with him, never mindnigga

Young niggas on Sigel Street

Word to Mack, they’ll rock something

Wait, wait!

North side of Philly my side of town

Bulletproof whip when I ride around

Niggas talk shit when I’m not around

Wouldn’t tell you that we run the city

But we moving, gotta say we jogging now

Hit the city and we running down

Ain’t no running now, niggas out of bounds

Plug this, plug that

Niggas rapping, they ain’t never sold nothing

Hold this hold that

I ain’t letting these niggas hold nothing

Summertime, niggas copping foreign whips

You can tell the Lord coming

Put my name on the flyer

All the trappers, all the bad hoes coming

Niggas dickriding other niggas, that’s a trend now

I’m still rocking with the same Chasers I’ve been round

Got so much work out we might slim down

I’m so popping all my haters turn friends now

Diamonds dancing like Mike Jackson

Shit shining like Mike’s jacket

Moonwalking in a Rolls Royce

Through the rearview, see my life backwards

Percocets, popped two 10s on a 20, nigga now I ain’t active

So wavy, nigga I ain’t rapping

Can’t tell me that I ain’t swagging, no way

This summer right here, nigga

We going up

Litted, it’s litted

Philly!

I’m with broads in Atlanta

Bunch of drugs and the Fanta

Bunch of guns in the Phantom

Spending money like a scammer

My young niggas in the kitchen whipping

Whipping, living large at the hammer

Ducking large and the scammers

Free my dawgs out the slammer

Black car, panther

Shorty call, never answer

20 foreigns in the mansion

Diamonds on me and they dancing

I don’t really understand rappers

Niggas jumping on bandwagons

All these bands got my pants sagging

Six threes on the Benz wagon

62s on the Maybach

Bitch I’m coming for the payback

62s in the pot, nigga

Tryna whip it up and bring it way back

You in the club and spending your cop money

All on the Gram acting like that you got money

We looking at you like you need to stop money

You killing yourself with that lil half a block money

I got that go to the mall and get what I want paper

You the type hoping I fall, that’s what you want, hater

Member back when I was broke?

I only had one hater

These suckers gon hate you no matter you broke or you own paper

Hundred bands, added up

We getting money, they mad at us

At the jeweler buying more Rollies

I don’t think these niggas man enough

Fuck them niggas, shit we stunting on em

Niggas, they ain’t got nothing on us

Niggas that we never fuck with

Run and telling people that we fronted on em

Nigga made me put a hundred on you

Do you dirty, put the drummer on you

Shots never stopping, pop, pop, pop, pop

We’ll run up on you

Dead bodies, homicide

Head shot, mama cry

Cops looking, got an alibi

Lawyer money, nigga, buying time

Hold!

They hit my nigga Chino in his head

Hold!

Took him to my nigga ain’t dead

No!

Ball in Miami on Sunday, we did

Ho!

Blowing the racks, we evaded the Gram

All black Panamera

White bitch named Samantha

White and black, she a panda

White and black, she a panda

Whipping the… rock with the

I should have just run with the rest