StanWill - Big Trippin' lyrics

Yeah huh ayy, huh, ayy, huh
(Reuel, stop playing with these niggas)

Bitch said, "This ain't what I'm used to"
Tool on me
I'll hit a nigga in his loose screw
I'm connected every fucking where
Like some Bluetooth huh, yeah, yeah
Only use my hands to grab
The pistol if it's confrontation
Brodie out his shit
He specialize in turning opps to patients
Cut into the waitress like
"My bitch like her lobster Cajun"
Tron high as hell
All he do is roll up za and face it
Blicky poking out the skinny jeans
You see the pistol print
Wouldn't waste a bullet on this chump
Got him pistol whipped
Wakе up and throw my tech on
And I ain't quit my shift
If she point at it, i grab it off the shеlf
'cause my bitch the shit like, huh
I know you sick that you missed yo Lyft
Dirty-ass McQueens on
That walk around with no whip
I know you taste my dick a lil'
Bit when you kiss yo bitch
Surfing on the web with a
Punch knowing this gon' hit
Huh, I'm a swiper and a scammer
I think I'm from Ragnarok
How I'm riding with the hammer
If you catch me in the store
Just know I'm sliding with them jammers
She something like Teanna Trump
How she slobbing it on camera
Ayy, you could probably jump in the ocean
You couldn't drip like me
Huh, even if you untie yo shoes
Couldn't trip like me
Huh, you could have the fucking bubble guts
Couldn't shit like me
Huh, yo bitch gon' choose 'cause she
Know you ain't shit like me
I check-out and do my giffy dance
Wouldn't even square up with a opp
If I had fifty hands
Riding 'round with them racks out
Think I'm the Titty Man
BabyTron really up some shit
You know Jimmy scam
Yeah, you know Jimmy scam, nigga
Bitch, ayy, huh, yeah
Yeah, I could up a fifty on
A 'cause I really can
Riding 'round with that fucker out
Quick to burn a nigga
Unc' running 'round with that
Quick to serve a nigga
Bitch bougie like, nah, for real
Quick to curve a nigga
Gang need new tires for the Chally
He keep swerving niggas
Yeah, goddamn, Reuel, you tripped
On this one, i ain't gon' lie
Ayy, huh, bitch reaching for the MAG
Might fuck around and blow her ass
Ayy, huh, really just fucked off the name
Didn't even know her ass
Really at the strip for lamb chops
But I'll throw some cash
Huh, they like, "Stan, you the GOAT", huh
You'll hesitate to spend a
Band, boy, you broke, huh
Boy, you really safer than a
Bitch like you don't stink
Bitch came with a lil' friend
I like 'em both, huh
Huh, but Dee the freaky one
If you talking 'bout a MAG
Just know I keep me one
If you talking 'bout a bag
Just know I be in one
But you ain't really talking 'bout shit, boy
You ain't seen a crumb
Tripping up at Neiman Marcus
Pulling out the racks and shit
My bitch want Dior and Alexander
She don't ask for dick
What the fuck? There go the boys, bro
Stash the blick