Westside Gunn, Mil Beats - Don’t Trust a Soul (7th Avenue version) lyrics

Grrr fuck
Grrr ayo
Luxurious fly shit don't fuck with me, yo
I blow your fuckin' head off, yo real shit

Ayo ayo, the rich saw Trump
Shot up his whip
Left him on the steering wheel slumped
Grippin' the pump shooter was lunching
He pulled over and took a bump (sniff)
The S6 from selling bricks
Top 3's on dice games throwing trips
Megabus, it out of duct tape
Some Supreme homies screaming "Fuck Bape"
(Fuck 'em)
So Bape homies screaming "Fuck Supreme"
(Fuck 'em)
Laying on the cot it was all a dream
Sly Green up in '83 trey pound no safety
My youngins shooting like KD
Dope spot all week, same hoodie, same jeans
Just took a loss in the place
It's fucked up when your fam change

I don't trust a fuckin' soul
Expect the sole on my Gucci loafers
Expect the sole on my Gucci loafers
Expect the sole on my Gucci loafers
I don't trust a motherfucking soul
Expect the sole on my Gucci loafers
Expect the sole on my Gucci loafers
Expect the sole on my Gucci loafers

Maniac with a gat
Shopping cracks in hundred packs, Guess
Jumper triangle on the flat, blat
Old stove new pot rocking
Don't give a fuck where we at
Broad day hit the nigga, took the mask off
The illest nigga in Nebraska
Known in the coke spots as Nunu
15 hundred my little nigga do you
Sniff a line the nigga turn coo-coo
Chopping bricks off like I'm Lulu
Supply the whole strip
Big chain, your bitch on my dick

I don't trust a motherfucking soul
Expect the sole on my Gucci loafers
Expect the sole on my Gucci loafers
I don't trust a motherfucking soul uh uh
Expect the sole on my Gucci loafers
Fuck you niggas

I don't trust a motherfucking soul, nigga
Fly shit the illest shit ever
I can't even help myself, nigga, I'm god