Press Triangle

Album cover art for "Press Triangle" by YSR Gramz

YSR Gramz - Rap, USA

Press Triangle

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Duration: 2:01

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Lyrics

[Intro] (Yo, Paolo, what the fuck is you made it?) (Hey, Nate, this bitch go crazy) [Chorus] Woke up and made five bands, nigga, life amazin' Told a bitch I don't want her, I want Ben Franklin I won't hit her 'cause her pussy smell like a dirty basement I can get you a quick twenty-ball, nigga, where you bankin'? Oh, I see you in the Hellcat, you wanna race it? I got a ghost Glock on me, they can't even trace it I'ma always throw fives, nigga, that's my nation I don't wanna talk if the money ain't the conversation [Verse] I can tell it's some 'za, the way it's tastin' Wake up and grind every day, I'm just tryna make it I'm outside trappin' all day, nigga, fuck cable Just give me the money, fuck bein' [?] He got hit with a Glock, his family miss him, now he feel famous When you down bad on your dick, won't no bitch save you I'm tryna make this bag jump, I just pressed [?] I love when a bitch bend it over and grab my ankles These niggas kill over hoes like dude off [?] Soon as them shots went off, dog started shakin' FN look fake as hell, but I ain't fakin' I only stabbed that bitch twice, but I ain't Jason I might buy a bitch somethin', but I ain't chasin' The police can get me in that room, I ain't breakin' Free them niggas locked down for drugs, fuck Ronald Regan You can get hit with Drac' or switch, how you wanna play it? I wanna tell his bitch I love her but I don't know how to say it Lil' bitch on her period, I'm finna pound her head Lil' nigga thought he bought a 'za 'bow, that's a pound of reg' He been hangin' with this nigga for five years, found out he fed Poured so many lines in this pop, it look like led We gon' send him all face shots, better duck your ehad The chopstick spear niggas like razor edge On my way to the West Side, I'm finna serve [?] [Chorus] Woke up and made five bands, nigga, life amazin' Told a bitch I don't want her, I want Ben Franklin I won't hit her 'cause her pussy smell like a dirty basement I can get you a quick twenty-ball, nigga, where you bankin'? Oh, I see you in the Hellcat, you wanna race it? I got a ghost Glock on me, they can't even trace it I'ma always throw fives, nigga, that's my nation I don't wanna talk if the money ain't the conversation

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Credits

Producers
  • ​paolomadeit