White Bricks - Trae Tha Truth

Mr. Rogers huh, fuck em up this time around homie

Hard on these motherfucking tracks, let’s get on em huh

Sitting on white bricks, wrapped in duct tape

Thirty minutes flat, I could bake a whole cake

Still sitting on the white bricks, while they wrapped up in duct tape

In the do’panel of the rental car, finna slide the Interstate

I’m grinding and I heard that it was a drought, and the FED’s was on they way to sweep

Even if they was, Tuesday and Thursday ain’t part of my week

But dig this here homie, I’m only out here trying to get it Every couple of months, I’m trying to stack another ticket

Quit it then I move around, so these niggaz don’t know my bidness

Give my brother K my sister P, the work until the finish

Plus I got Columbian connects, to fuck a nigga price off

And they know it’s real, fuck with me and they gon fuck your life off

Never seen the Federal Pen, and I don’t plan on getting by one

Material witness come, I load the talons and I fly one

I holla at the Snowman, when I feel it need to snow

And if it pump we gon jump to the mood, and work it then resco'

For trappers that’s all they know, and we gon shine it when the time is right

Duck off in the day and move at night, cause you know we still

Still sitting on white bricks, in the hood

I ain’t no motherfucking fool, I wish these bitch niggaz would

Got birds strapped under the hood of my low-low, middle finger pointed

up for the po-po

Got that pistol grip pump in my lap, riding out on the solo

Got a call for three 9's, but I don’t sell no pistols

I’m in distribution for selling soft sacks, with them crystals

Cocainia hit em like missles, when they snort that first line or two

Take over the whole neighborhood, is what I’m trying to do So I don’t do no cutting, when it comes to this work

When trouble come the pump’ll start barking, but it won’t chirp

But I been waiting for one of you niggaz, to get out of line

I’ma start hitting niggaz, up in the line one at a time

With that H.G.C.

like, Lil’Boss up in his G Nike’s

Under the street lights, trying to get rid of the rest of this whizzite

All it take is one whistle, and the homies is coming

I strapped all them niggaz up, so when they get hit ain’t cutting cause I been