Trim

[Chorus: Yung Bleu] Uh, twenty bands on him (On him) Fifty bands on him (On him) Hundred bands on them You speak them words, you gotta stand on them (Gotta stay standin') Walk down with fire and rep the brand on him (Gon' always rep the brand, frr) These hoes gon' fuck off face 'cause my shit trim I'm tryna fuck her face 'cause I'm a pimp Ain't here to conversate, you gotta strip I fucked her with my .40 on the dresser [Post-Chorus: Yung Bleu] Yes, sir Do you love me? Yes, sir Bitch, you better, yes, sir Stack your cheese, yes, sir Lot of cheddar, yes, sir Fuck me better, yes, sir Can you be my Cinderella? Yes, sir Gotta drop them clothes, yes, sir [Verse 1: Yung Bleu] Gucci loafers, LV sandals (That's my shit, I'm poppin') This bitch got more ass than I can handle (Bitch, you know I pop it) Preferrin' a Scorpio, but she a Cancer (Fuck that shit, come pop it) Take off, I'm tryna fly you from Atlanta (Got them racks, I got it) Completed, I got more cash than I can handle (Got them racks, I got it) Can't believe that you got more ass than you can handle Put you on camera I don't drink no more, so take a shot for me I'ma drop the hammer Nail you to the cross, you feel it in your knee Chain go bananas Shit hit like TV screen 'cause these VVs Young nigga from Bama Where the niggas be sellin' packs like DVDs [Interlude: Yung Bleu] Bitch, I'm so trim Yeah, yeah [Chorus: Yung Bleu] Uh, twenty bands on him (On him) Fifty bands on him (On him) Hundred bands on them (Oh, that's a hundred bands) You speak them words, you gotta stand on them (Lil' nigga, I overstand) Walk down with fire and rep the brand on him (Gon' always rep the brand, frr) These hoes gon' fuck off face 'cause my shit trim (My shit trim) I'm tryna fuck her face 'cause I'm a pimp (Niggas ain't him) Ain't here to conversate, you gotta strip (Gotta strip) I fucked her with my .40 on the dresser [Post-Chorus: Yung Bleu & G Herbo] Yes, sir Do you love me? Yes, sir Bitch, you better, yes, sir Stack your cheese, yes, sir Lot of cheddar, yes, sir Fuck me better, yes, sir Can you be my Cinderella? Yes, sir Gotta drop them clothes, yes, sir (Uh-huh) [Verse 2: G Herbo] Rick Owen walkin', slick pimp talkin' Pockets filled up, money fallin' Pop out fresh to death, coffin Lil' bitch, you don't see this often (Uh-uh) Everybody right here bosses We go wherever whenever, when we get together, it's twenty hoes tryna fuck all us Might pick her up in the Spectre, she thinkin' she special, I drop her, I ain't gon' call her I done pulled up in some shit like a 911, I hop out, look like I'm crawlin' We in the spot and it's lit, fine shit in the section, the whole clique already dogged And I tell 'em, "If we all lit, it's better, we'd probably have a ball" Big Ski, who you know P like me? MOB 'til I D-I-E Your main sleazy might get involved, then she end up in VIP (Go) And I'm trim seven days a week, so I'm him on and off IG 'Cause I been in a different league, play with M's, fuck is twenty G's? (Yeah, uh) [Chorus: Yung Bleu & G Herbo] Uh, twenty bands on him (On him, yeah) Fifty bands on him (On him, yeah) Hundred bands on them (Oh, that's a hundred bands) You speak them words, you gotta stand on them (Lil' nigga, I overstand) Walk down with fire and rep the brand on him (Gon' always rep the brand, frr) These hoes gon' fuck off face 'cause my shit trim (My shit trim) I'm tryna fuck her face 'cause I'm a pimp (Niggas ain't him) Ain't here to conversate, you gotta strip (Gotta strip) I fucked her with my .40 on the dresser [Post-Chorus: Yung Bleu] Yes, sir Do you love me? Yes, sir Bitch, you better, yes, sir Stack your cheese, yes, sir Lot of cheddar, yes, sir Fuck me better, yes, sir Can you be my Cinderella? Yes, sir Gotta drop them clothes, yes, sir