Donald Trump Remix by Cozzi Lyrics
[Verse 1: Cozzi]
Take over the world gotta take over the hood first
Catch me in the open posted smoking on that good purp
18 a gram if you know them hoes like I do
Raised in the ham shout out to Tarrant High School
Make em say damn, shirt red like a piru
If you need that crack come to my trap we got a drivethrough
Mane I swear we got more chickens than Blount County
Catch me in the kitchen sippin' never fucking drowsy
And you know im whipping pidgeons and im smoking loudly
Traphouse cloudy, can you really doubt me
Hundred thousand sitting on the couch with a Mac-10
Got 3 stoves in every single crack den
That's 12 eyes cooking if you looking for them cookies
Took me all of eight months to get the north-side shooken
Hookin', on like a motherfucking dope fiend
Wanna play with Cozzi, mane I'll spray your whole team
Bitches can't control me
Just this pay and codeine
Yeah I got them bricks but shawty keep that on the low key
205 yeah I'm coming to you live
Don't wanna walk the streets without a pistol on your side
The particular demise
Of a hood that got deprived
Take a look inside the lives
And be shooken by the cries
I speak the truth
Even when I leave the booth
He asked me if we need a body-bag I said we needed two
Even you could need a breathing tube
Another one for eating through
Put your ass to sleep just like the motherfucking reaper do
With your blood seeping through the cracks in the streets
I don't even need a reason to I'm packin' my heat
Take over the world gotta take over the hood first
Catch me in the open posted smoking on that good purp
18 a gram if you know them hoes like I do
Raised in the ham shout out to Tarrant High School
Make em say damn, shirt red like a piru
If you need that crack come to my trap we got a drivethrough
Mane I swear we got more chickens than Blount County
Catch me in the kitchen sippin' never fucking drowsy
And you know im whipping pidgeons and im smoking loudly
Traphouse cloudy, can you really doubt me
Hundred thousand sitting on the couch with a Mac-10
Got 3 stoves in every single crack den
That's 12 eyes cooking if you looking for them cookies
Took me all of eight months to get the north-side shooken
Hookin', on like a motherfucking dope fiend
Wanna play with Cozzi, mane I'll spray your whole team
Bitches can't control me
Just this pay and codeine
Yeah I got them bricks but shawty keep that on the low key
205 yeah I'm coming to you live
Don't wanna walk the streets without a pistol on your side
The particular demise
Of a hood that got deprived
Take a look inside the lives
And be shooken by the cries
I speak the truth
Even when I leave the booth
He asked me if we need a body-bag I said we needed two
Even you could need a breathing tube
Another one for eating through
Put your ass to sleep just like the motherfucking reaper do
With your blood seeping through the cracks in the streets
I don't even need a reason to I'm packin' my heat