Up & Down

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Pressa & Houdini] Gucci linen pattern match my kicks She got them big ol' tits that match her hips And my niggas batter up, you get pitched She want love when Pressa need a brick He tried to slide, unfortunate his hammer glitched I'm makin' all this money, now I feel like Mitch I couldn't care about a nigga or a bitch I couldn't leave the trap, I'd miss a whole lotta nips And all the features on my back and my wrist Ordinary block boy, just a lil' bit from rich Put that thirty in the Glock, now we walkin' wit' a stick And trap house, it got bed bugs, Pressa, he got bit Feels good I don't gotta see my lawyer Still wit' the shits, you know I'm still tryna avoid her I know they mad 'cause a nigga crossed the border He been sittin' on that pack, called that kid a lil' hoarder She called me a drug dealer, call me Richie Porter Shooting no forward, ball like Jalen Poyser Trap house borin' but we still placin' orders Quarter-brick, half a brick, feel like a OJ (Ayy, ayy) [Verse 2: Houdini] Trap in my genetics Them trips, I won't regret it Real grains, no pellet Free my fellow felons Drop-top on Sunset, lil' bitch can't get in Leavin' niggas upset, Valentino steppin' Got two in my cup, with two grams in my blunt Dare a nigga try some Hot shit make him run They ain't even up Move like they be up I can't trust a bitch Or can't trust a slut She up on the kid She can't get enough Like glue, move it, stuck Got Wassas in the cut Who say money don't buy love? Shoutout the plug, still give me one Don't make it feel like he put me on I still got it on my own [Verse 3: Pressa] My opps ain't a problem My shooters on parole My niggas in jail cells Bad bitches answer phones That nigga on fire like stop, drop, and roll You want a boatload but can't even drive a boat Remind me of Red 5's, put 'em on the Redbox Niggas pulled up on me, almost shot me by the greenbox We was talkin', trappin', turn down when the stove hot They was talkin', sit down and sit down like my grandpa Sit down like my lola That's against the law, lah And I'm Filipino but I ain't goin' back home (Yuh) Shooters, they gon' on ya' Shooters, they all on ya' And my grandma said "Don't trust niggas, they go cobra" I'm that nigga they wanna know Trap house with double phones Used to get it in by the low Bricks sell high in the low If you really know what I mean Trap house runnin' like Krispy Kreme I'm a vampire, needa feed He gon' vomit when he breathe The opps, they gon' bleed and just bleed Headshot on the scene Yeah, he miskeen Yeah, my waryas on debris