The Cool Kids, Don Cannon, Pac Div - TRIUMPH (Pt. 2) lyrics
[The Cool Kids, Don Cannon, Pac Div - TRIUMPH Pt. 2 lyrics]
Yeah so um
I know you ain’t heard this voice in a minute
But before shit got weird
We ran that check up
And then when I see shit is still weird
We came back to run that check up
So the reunion was necessary
The notorious co-signing Don Cannon
Cool Kids, Pac Div, nigga
If you ain’t team, gang, squad
I ain’t tattin’ ya
All tatted niggas better get they baggy up
Ring, ring, wake up for the postman
And crack the back door for the ghost man
Mariani lingo, eggplant parmesan
Persian rug and cat
I’m good on all the hand daps
I don’t like when niggas call me
Big bro and they got kids
I don’t even got kids
Miss me with that weird shit
Thе stocks getting boxed in
My crypto in the top tеn
My accountant told me what’s the play
And then I hopped in
I just put a hundred in your GoFundMe budget
I just did it just to spite you, I love it
The drama, the conflict
The calls to your cousin
You tried to sick ‘em on me but
They told you you was bugging
Real stupid, goofy, smart guy
A bunch of groupies in your archive
Old bald niggas get designered down
Get a Corvette drop and then ride around
I seen this game take niggas with dreams
Get a buzz, move to LA, and turn to a fiend
Probably wish that you could turn to a
Team but you ain’t got one
Not one, all you got is ghostriding shotgun
Cap got traded in, the crib get gated in
(gated in)
It’s a beautiful thing, ain’t it, man
If you ain’t team, gang, squad
I ain’t tattin’ ya
All tatted niggas better get they baggy up
Ring, ring, wake up for the postman
And crack the back door for the ghost man
Aye leather sandals, , on the mantle
Fireplace like a candle, if you straight me
I’ll slant you
The best rapper that you seen make beats
The real tea is I’m kinda next to Jay Dee
Can’t play me, we can never trade seats
On the leather alligator under my sneaks
Either that or I’ma fry it
You smoke that muhfucka
Taste just like unagi over fire the bulgogi
Brick chopper in my hands
Yea man I know karate
I could pick apart a ripple in the water
Make it stop put my wrist back in it
Whipping tides in and out
If you ain’t team, gang, squad
I ain’t tattin’ ya
All tatted niggas better get they baggy up
Ring, ring, wake up for the postman
And crack the back door for the ghost man
Excuse me
Nothing under the Stussy bucket but buckets
(swish)
Seven hundred for Gucci sneakers, fuck it
(I did it) nothing else on my mind
I’m minding these duckets
If you don’t push a hard
Line then you’s a buster
I do you justice, blue bucks in my clutches
Get walked down by the homie
Who walk with crutches
Burberry swim trunks for the summertime
I play better when everything is on the line
Just head east on Adams for me one time
Nice whip, is that a lease or you tryna buy?
You wanna deal with police
Or you tryna slide?
Nowadays, a sneak diss mean you tryna die
See you, at Home Depot in JNCO jeans
The sales clerk mistake you for Cee-Lo Green
I’m in the line behind you buying mouse traps
Place ‘em around the studio to
Get my style back
I brought the Don Julio and the loud pack
I’m so washed, nigga
Throw me on the towel rack
You think you can out rap
Five hungry niggas in the
Waiting line at Outback? I doubt that
Talk sideways and get ya mouth cracked
Ya shit swelling up like ya gout back
This that real nigga soundtrack
Made for those who count wax
And drink brown ‘gnac
Ayo Space Jam 11s for the
Lunar new year in tune
To the moons, I truly do hear
Too many coonin’ for views
I refuse to compare
Placing bids off the grid
‘til the true reappear
Secluded as Kyrie, mastering the Tai Chi
So golden with it, woulda went plat’ in 9-3
Whole culture shifted for the bag
Who’s the top leech
No Uber, Lyft, fuck a cab
Sack they ride free
Huh, could probably Saks Fifth Ave
The starting five hit game winners
When the stats get bad
Bet I keep a Plan B for my A game
This ain’t designed for the
Live soldiers to maintain, the game’s lame
If you ain’t team, gang, squad
I ain’t tattin’ ya
All tatted niggas better get they baggy up
Ring, ring, wake up for the postman
And crack the back door for the ghost man
Notorious you could say we back
But that’d be an understatement
Hand me my 45 jersey
I know you ain’t heard this voice in a minute
But before shit got weird
We ran that check up
And then when I see shit is still weird
We came back to run that check up
So the reunion was necessary
The notorious co-signing Don Cannon
Cool Kids, Pac Div, nigga
If you ain’t team, gang, squad
I ain’t tattin’ ya
All tatted niggas better get they baggy up
Ring, ring, wake up for the postman
And crack the back door for the ghost man
Mariani lingo, eggplant parmesan
Persian rug and cat
I’m good on all the hand daps
I don’t like when niggas call me
Big bro and they got kids
I don’t even got kids
Miss me with that weird shit
Thе stocks getting boxed in
My crypto in the top tеn
My accountant told me what’s the play
And then I hopped in
I just put a hundred in your GoFundMe budget
I just did it just to spite you, I love it
The drama, the conflict
The calls to your cousin
You tried to sick ‘em on me but
They told you you was bugging
Real stupid, goofy, smart guy
A bunch of groupies in your archive
Old bald niggas get designered down
Get a Corvette drop and then ride around
I seen this game take niggas with dreams
Get a buzz, move to LA, and turn to a fiend
Probably wish that you could turn to a
Team but you ain’t got one
Not one, all you got is ghostriding shotgun
Cap got traded in, the crib get gated in
(gated in)
It’s a beautiful thing, ain’t it, man
If you ain’t team, gang, squad
I ain’t tattin’ ya
All tatted niggas better get they baggy up
Ring, ring, wake up for the postman
And crack the back door for the ghost man
Aye leather sandals, , on the mantle
Fireplace like a candle, if you straight me
I’ll slant you
The best rapper that you seen make beats
The real tea is I’m kinda next to Jay Dee
Can’t play me, we can never trade seats
On the leather alligator under my sneaks
Either that or I’ma fry it
You smoke that muhfucka
Taste just like unagi over fire the bulgogi
Brick chopper in my hands
Yea man I know karate
I could pick apart a ripple in the water
Make it stop put my wrist back in it
Whipping tides in and out
If you ain’t team, gang, squad
I ain’t tattin’ ya
All tatted niggas better get they baggy up
Ring, ring, wake up for the postman
And crack the back door for the ghost man
Excuse me
Nothing under the Stussy bucket but buckets
(swish)
Seven hundred for Gucci sneakers, fuck it
(I did it) nothing else on my mind
I’m minding these duckets
If you don’t push a hard
Line then you’s a buster
I do you justice, blue bucks in my clutches
Get walked down by the homie
Who walk with crutches
Burberry swim trunks for the summertime
I play better when everything is on the line
Just head east on Adams for me one time
Nice whip, is that a lease or you tryna buy?
You wanna deal with police
Or you tryna slide?
Nowadays, a sneak diss mean you tryna die
See you, at Home Depot in JNCO jeans
The sales clerk mistake you for Cee-Lo Green
I’m in the line behind you buying mouse traps
Place ‘em around the studio to
Get my style back
I brought the Don Julio and the loud pack
I’m so washed, nigga
Throw me on the towel rack
You think you can out rap
Five hungry niggas in the
Waiting line at Outback? I doubt that
Talk sideways and get ya mouth cracked
Ya shit swelling up like ya gout back
This that real nigga soundtrack
Made for those who count wax
And drink brown ‘gnac
Ayo Space Jam 11s for the
Lunar new year in tune
To the moons, I truly do hear
Too many coonin’ for views
I refuse to compare
Placing bids off the grid
‘til the true reappear
Secluded as Kyrie, mastering the Tai Chi
So golden with it, woulda went plat’ in 9-3
Whole culture shifted for the bag
Who’s the top leech
No Uber, Lyft, fuck a cab
Sack they ride free
Huh, could probably Saks Fifth Ave
The starting five hit game winners
When the stats get bad
Bet I keep a Plan B for my A game
This ain’t designed for the
Live soldiers to maintain, the game’s lame
If you ain’t team, gang, squad
I ain’t tattin’ ya
All tatted niggas better get they baggy up
Ring, ring, wake up for the postman
And crack the back door for the ghost man
Notorious you could say we back
But that’d be an understatement
Hand me my 45 jersey