Put Em On A Shirt (feat. Yo Gotti)

I'm tripping hard 'cause my nigga gone
 And everyday it's getting worse
 My brother died on a Sunday
 He should've been in church
 We gon' die in the trap house
 I was whippin' up the work
 On the block with them Glocks out
 We might put 'em on a shirt
 I'm tripping hard 'cause my nigga gone
 And everyday it's getting worse
 My brother died on a Sunday
 He should've been in church
 We gon' die in the trap house
 I was whippin' up the work
 On the block with them Glocks out
 We might put 'em on a shirt
 Swear to god I never pay for a shooter
 Free my dog, Lord knows I can't lose you
 They say throw a million dollars, you a new you
 That's a lie, man the money made me coo-coo
 Hits in the streets like the billboard
 Street money, lil' niggas will kill for it
 Baguette AP, I payed a deal for it
 500 K, this the big boy
 I heard you seen an opp, and you froze up
 Me, I got the drake in the Roles' trunk
 Soon as I send the Tech, know I rolls up
 Nigga got beef, know I showed up
 I never forget the shit that OG niggas told me
 Reppin' the rap game 'cause this corporate niggas hold us
 Keepin' it gangsta, these niggas know that we the culture
 RIP Sausa, nigga we lost a soldier
 Pack came on a Monday, straight up
 Feds busted on a Tuesday
 Nobody knew that the pack came, niggas
 But my boys so they can freeze me
 He switched up once the money came
 That's the quickest way to lose me, nobody helped
 They only coming when the beef on
 I think these niggas tryna use me
 I'm tripping hard 'cause my nigga gone
 And everyday it's getting worse
 My brother died on a Sunday
 He should've been in church
 We gon' die in the trap house
 I was whippin' up the work
 On the block with them Glocks out
 We might put 'em on a shirt
 I'm tripping hard 'cause my nigga gone
 And everyday it's getting worse
 My brother died on a Sunday
 He should've been in church
 We gon' die in the trap house
 I was whippin' up the work
 On the block with them Glocks out
 We might put 'em on a shirt
 Rest in peace all my dead homies
 Had us singing these sad songs
 I stay rolling, these niggas be mad strong
 I get high 'til I head home
 I remember them days we were doing them dead wrong
 Boy you best keep your head on
 Don't come in this block, that's a red zone
 I got a few packs, put my mans on
 I learned how to trap, I was hands on
 Moved the keys for the first time
 I'm a young Stevie Wonder
 I swear to God man, this life will make you wanna
 Nigga got the chopper, bet he make it stutter
 I be slanging bricks and butter
 And I'm from the streets, so I had to pick the gun up
 You can't cross me, shawty 'cause I'm always running
 Cutting all night, working hard 'til the sun up
 Hard 'til the sun up
 How you trade on your mans, you so dirty
 When we talk to the clan we took .30s
 I told mama your boy a man, so don't worry
 Only put my trust in these bands, they don't hurt me
 Only smoking exotic gas, my eyes blurry
 I just poured a four with my mans, so I'm slurry
 I just did the digital dash, now I'm swerving
 I just had a talk with my mans, hope he heard me
 I'm tripping hard 'cause my nigga gone
 And everyday it's getting worse
 My brother died on a Sunday
 He should've been in church
 We gon' die in the trap house
 I was whippin' up the work
 On the block with them Glocks out
 We might put 'em on a shirt
 I'm tripping hard 'cause my nigga gone
 And everyday it's getting worse
 My brother died on a Sunday
 He should've been in church
 We gon' die in the trap house
 I was whippin' up the work
 On the block with them Glocks out
 We might put 'em on a shirt, yeah