Business Trip

Lyrics

[Intro: Tay B] Hmm, yeah All facts, lil' nigga, hmm Can't be fucked with, you feel me? [Verse 1: Tay B] I ain't havin' fun in LA, this a business trip Drop on an opp, I hit his block and start sendin' shit Fuck the cops, I'm only worried 'bout the witnesses I can't hang around no nigga who don't benefit Lil' nigga, this a Bentley truck, it's not a Genesis Lil' cuz in the feds got caught with a switch and shit Same niggas hatin', same hoes, you ain't missin' shit [Verse 2: BabyTron] Thirty shows in forty days, then back to Michigan It was local, now it's global, shit, I'm booked in Switzerland The move I hit that lil' bitch with, it's meant for finishin' You would think that cuddy starvin', askin' where the kitchen is What the fuck's an L? You either get a win or learn a lesson This a hybrid, when it get to E, just watch it turn electric Thinkin' hoеs deserve it, your namе Deacon Ham from servin' blessings Wocky in the Bimmer, am I German? Hit the curb and wreck it [Verse 3: Tay B] Mansion party, we got fifty bitches, it's just me and Tron You think I'm only gettin' money, you should see the guys Tell a freak ho come eat this dick, I don't wine and dine Your mans died, you hit his bitch, boy, you outta line You gon' let me fuck or naw? I'm Tay Dollar Signs You got a handful of pennies, still'll drop a dime If it ain't 'bout M's, my name won't go up on no dotted line Before you get some bumps up on your tongue, you better stop the lyin' [Verse 4: BabyTron & Tay B] Play with me or mines gon' have you rockin' ties Take a six and turn my cream into some Rock & Rye Wrong place, wrong time, I am not the guy Eyes on the backdoor, I told Tay to watch the side Pull up to his family function, make him cha-cha slide Golden-State-grew weed, it got me Zaza fried All that prayin', hatin', but my fate, only God decide (Yeah) Time to run it up a hundred times, make sure my Yaggas tied (Huh) [Verse 5: Tay B & BabyTron] I got a sexy redbone, she like dreadheads Y'all niggas was laughin' at his post, now y'all mans dead Up a pic spreadin' blues, made her legs spread When I ain't in the booth, come cop, I'm the yeah man I only hang with solid niggas, you got fed friends Whack a nigga, make him how high, call him Redman Ballin' like a Piston, neck lit, left wrist a Richard Young as hell, posted on the corner like I'm Derek Fisher I really been rich around this bitch, y'all just ain't get the picture All these hoes dick suck too much, I can't even kiss you Line of Quagen and a line of Trish, fuck around and mix 'em Fuck them niggas, I shit on them boys, Dog Shit Militia