MP5 Lyrics – Trippie Redd
(I’m too far gone)
(Yeah)
Hop out a GT3 with an MP5
I got ice like Alaska, jet to Dubai
Had to spread my wings, teach them all how to fly
You niggas square, divide ’em by pie
Rollin’ ’round, three GMC’s, ’bout to be a drive-by
Your little homie know what’s up with me, talk down, you gone die
Keep that .40 on my lap, I spent like twenty-four on my Rollie
When you see me out in LA, just know I’m ballin’ like Kobe
I’ve been number one, ***, don’t need no trophy
Know we crackheads, pass me the rock and I’ll be ballin’ like Kobe
Ridin’ down the 101 not no Zoey
I stay stackin’ with my twin for the win, Zach and Cody
You niggas be hatin’, Mr. Mosby
Stackin’ it up, on lowkey
Stay stackin’ up, rackin’ up, triple OG
*** stress, stay blessed, stay away from the phonies
Hop out a GT3 with an MP5
I got ice like Alaska, jet to Dubai
Had to spread my wings, teach them all how to fly
You niggas square, divide ’em by pie
Rollin’ ’round, three GMC’s, ’bout to be a drive-by
Your little homie know what’s up with me, talk down, you gone die
Keep that .40 on my lap, I spent like twenty-four on my Rollie
When you see me out in LA, just know I’m ballin’ like Kobe
Light that *** up
Walk in the spot, I’ma pipe *** up
Them niggas hatin’ my swag, them niggas so bitter
I thought I told them little niggas I’m hard hitta (Takin’ that *** to the heart)
I thought I told you little niggas I’m gon’ get up (Tell them little niggas I’m God)
Press ***, don’t matter like how could you fold ***? (How could you ***? Oh my God)
How could you let that hate sit in your soul, ***? (How could it sit in your soul?)
Shawty a demon, a real soul switcher (I’m like, how did you know?)
Y’all niggas steppin’ on toes
Handle that *** like you grown
Doin’ this *** on my ‘lone
I got that bag on my own
*** it, I’m in the zone
Gon’ say *** I’m God
Hop in that ghost, I’m ghost, I’m gone
Hop out a GT3 with an MP5
I got ice like Alaska, jet to Dubai
Had to spread my wings, teach them all how to fly
You niggas square, divide ’em by pie
Rollin’ ’round, three GMC’s, ’bout to be a drive-by
Your little homie know what’s up with me, talk down, you gone die
Keep that .40 on my lap, I spent like twenty-four on my Rollie
When you see me out in LA, just know I’m ballin’ like Kobe