Thigh Pads

Lyrics

[Intro] (Wake up, F1LTHY) Blap! Blap! Yeah 50! Everything 50 nigga You know everything Global nigga (Global!) Yea Rich Slime [Chorus] Totin that stick like a Taliban I got shooters and you know they from Iran I'm full up off drop, so you know I'm kickstand I'm tied in, all my niggas they some made men My niggas start sprayin niggas like they spray cans We teardrop shit, I don't do no fades man I know his ass ain't bout it, that's a phase man I'm rockin LVs up on my face no Ray-Bans I put his ass on a plate now he steak man I'm so 7:30 bruh these niggas late man I been a real nigga I'm seein through the fake man I'm countin that plata you know his ass gon hate man Aye I'm in the trap wit them thigh pads I don't see these niggas man I'm like a blind man Got double-down straps on me and they compact My shooters start spinnin all that shit like Chiraq He still got popped it only cost me 5 racks (Blat, blat, blat) [Verse] I see the shit on the screen just like IMAX I'm full up off drugs you know I'm switching climates These niggas gettin touched nigga like they iPads That nigga got popped and he ain't even fye back I'm shootin off rip so I don't gotta shoot back I been gettin niggas toe-tagged You ain't talkin bout plata then I ain't even for that My notes is so thick man I can't even fold that Yo bitch went missing but that hoe ain't kidnapped Yeah All my choppas they got kick-back She don't do drop so why that hoe done relapsed? My pockets on Fat Joe yea they got me leanin back You know I stay slumped on the drugs like Ski Mask I told that bitch chill out yeah I'm finna be back He tried to play slick he thought I wasn't gon see that Damn Nigga got shot up on the real got shit-bagged Banana clip on me like I'm Bin Laden I feel like Flippa cuz you know I been having I'm making them straight deposits yeah I been stashin My bitches stay fly as fuck you know they in fashion I'm strapped wit that judge ain't talkin bout no Mathis My shooters slow as fuck yea they always crashin Yea Cold heart like assassin I'm countin that money you know that shit my passion Watch I'm bout to cross a nigga like it's backwards You talkin bout gang then you know that (shit happened) These niggas fake as fuck yeah I know they BAPPIN Three straps on me how the fuck I'm lacking? My bitch in that Benz she hoppin out the G-Wagon Spittin fire like a dragon [Chorus] Totin that stick like a Taliban I got shooters and you know they from Iran I'm full up off drop, so you know I'm kickstand I'm tied in, all my niggas they some made men My niggas start sprayin niggas like they spray cans We teardrop shit, I don't do no fades man I know his ass ain't bout it, that's a phase man I'm rockin LVs up on my face no Ray-Bans I put his ass on a plate now he steak man I'm so 7:30 bruh these niggas late man I been a real nigga I'm seein through the fake man I'm countin that plata you know his ass gon hate man Aye I'm in the trap wit them thigh pads I don't see these niggas man I'm like a blind man Got double-down straps on me and they compact My shooters start spinnin all that shit like Chiraq He still got popped it only cost me 5 racks (Blat, blat, blat)