Trippie Redd – Mansion Musik Lyrics

Lyrics Mansion Musik – Trippie Redd

Yeah, yeah..
N**gas wanna be my kin
P**sy, you not my folks, uh
Ridin’ ’round town in a Benz
Put that b**ch on spokes
Spent eight mil’ on a crib
Bought that b**ch with a moat
B**ch, I just got rich
Let’s have a goddamn toast

Step on a n**ga in Ricks
Got on a cranberry coat
Yeah, it’s just me and my ho
Snake eyes, b**ch, like a G.I. Joe
Baby, sit back, just smoke my dope
Go get your brother, I heard that he croak
Put that on your mother, I know y’all h*es
Still gotta stick to the code

Boy, I get in that mode, don’t play with me
Boy, this s**t ain’t for show
Eighty-eight keys, no piano
Gotta get it how you live, that’s my MO
Yeah, she want the whole thing, not the demo
Pull in through a tunnel in my Maybach limo

Yeah, she want double trouble, that’s akimbo
Whip her head back and forth, not no Willow
Get that n**ga out that horse, feel like Django
Sendin’ shots everywhere, I feel like Rambo
Call of Duty, b**ch, pull up with commandos
I might buy a yacht, feel like Jack Sparrow
Posted in the field like a damn scarecrow
And my brother sellin’ white like some ashy elbows

Shawty, what’s your name, Put you in Chanel, ho
I ain’t even at the beach, but I could send some shells, ho
Gotta get the all-black Ricks, shell toes
Keep all of that gangster s**t up off the cell phone
My brother in the hole, we can’t talk off the jail phone
With my brothers in the streets, man, I feel like Elmo
Sending all the shots and I got all the ammo
Got this s**t lit like a damn candle

Pop a n**ga’s top like a damn canned good
Chrome Heart shades look like some Ray-Bans, yeah
Red car, red bag, feel like Santa
Red bandana, here to f**k your plans up

What’s up in your head
You want some smoke, some cancer
P**sy, get your bands up, codeine in the Fanta
Put them poles on you n**gas, turn you into dancers
Yeah, AK-47 with a damn banana, uh

Turn a p**sy block into a damn bonanza
I got white like Hannah, proud of me like tana
They got pigs at they crib like they in Alabama
Sippin’ 1942 mixed with Tropicana
Pour a four, skadoosh, Kung Fu Panda
With the gangsters and the robbers chilling in Atlanta
Feds hit the trap, throw the codeine in the blammer
I’m on Magnolia, cops puttin’ me in handcuffs

800 gang
1400
Big 14, know what the f**k going on
Gang, gang…

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