BOOL

[Intro: Trippie Redd]

TraphouseRyan

You ain't bool, uh

You ain't bool, uh

You ain't bool, uh

Yeah

TraphouseRyan tight as shit, my nigga

[Chorus: Trippie Redd]

Hold up, ayy, you can't bool with us, no-oh (Yeah)

(You can't, you can't, you can't bool, you can't, you can't bool)

Ayy, you can't bool with us, no-oh (Yeah)

(You can't bool, you can't bool, you ain't bool, you ain't bool)

Hold up, you can't bool with us, no-oh

(You can't bool with, you ain't, you ain't bool, you ain't, you ain't)

Uh, uh, you can't bool with us, no-oh

(You can't bool, you can't, you can't)

[Verse 1: Mozzy]

Oil in the Phantom, double digits in the blammer

Blickys over jammers, bitch I do that shit on camera

Cookie package when I'm landin', in Atlanta smokin' good

On the hood I came from nothin', niggas blew up off a jugg

All my uncle 'n 'em the plug, used to bag up fifty dubs

I'm addicted to these drugs, body itchin' off the mud

I'm outchere tweakin' with my thugs, niggas kill you over crumbs

Grab the cherry handkerchief, my jit fillin' up a drum

Fuck you talkin' 'bout it, Mozzy get it poppin' in these slums

Popular with these pistols, shottas pop you up for nothin'

Nookie hundreds I'm just thumbin', multiplyin' blue bundles

Nigga promise not to fumble, get money, remain humble

[Chorus: Trippie Redd]

Hold up, ayy, you can't bool with us, no-oh (Yeah)

(You can't, you can't, you can't bool, you can't, you can't bool)

Ayy, you can't bool with us, no-oh (Yeah)

(You can't bool, you can't bool, you ain't bool, you ain't bool)

Hold up, you can't bool with us, no-oh

(You can't bool with, you ain't, you ain't bool, you ain't, you ain't)

Uh, uh, you can't bool with us, no-oh

(You can't bool, you can't, you can't)

[Verse 2: Chris King]

I be fuckin' up the highway, I been grindin' for some months

I be rollin' blunts and poppin' pills 'cause I do what I want

And I know your bitch been on my line but I will not confront

And she know that I been gettin' all of my shit from the jump

Ayy-oh-ayy-oh, tell you what the hood like baby

Make sure you roll my Backwoods tight baby

I be sippin' on the lean, act good now ready

Smokin' on the dope, that ayy-oh-ayy-oh

Hopin' that a bitch don't get out of pocket

Before a young nigga have to go and call up Rocket

He tell me mash on it, get to pimpin' and poppin'

And fuckin' up the penthouse, we was runnin' the lobby instead

All these niggas runnin' mad at your bread

Guillotine with these rapper's ass, off with they head

Everybody wanna win but everybody act scared

Don't be hittin' up my line, do you fuck with the feds?

I be sippin' on drink 'til I flatline, fishscale, the Benz back tied

These old rappers sound mad tired, her pussy wet, it get baptized, whoa

[Chorus: Trippie Redd & Chris King]

Hold up, ayy (Snotty), you can't bool with us, no-oh (Yeah)

(You can't, you can't, you can't bool, you can't, you can't bool)

Ayy, you can't bool with us, no-oh (Yeah)

(You can't bool, you can't bool, you ain't bool, you ain't bool)

Hold up, you can't bool with us, no-oh

(You can't bool with, you ain't, you ain't bool, you ain't, you ain't)

Uh, uh, you can't bool with us, no-oh

(You can't bool, you can't, you can't)

[Verse 3: YG]

You can't bool with us, you ain't bool enough

You ain't movin' nothin', you ain't shootin' nothin'

You ain't toolied up

Bitch I'm coogied up, my bitch bougie as fuck, fuck

She only doin' Uber Vista, XL Uber truck (Yeah)

JP fitted, be havin' Bar Town to Lenox

My video shoots be like Piru conventions

Can't bool, ain't no convincin', you don't know 'bout Missy's Kitchen

Niggas' fingers wasn't twisted, niggas' pistols wasn't whistlin'

Never dough, you wasn't whippin', you was scared, you kept bitchin'

But now you want to bool to look bool, nigga, you trippin'

They see the diamonds glistin', they know we fuckin' bitches

They know we got the juice, whatever we say niggas gon' listen (Yeah)

T's, P's, and B's, oh my, come clean, we slidin' on God

Twenty on his head, nigga, why not? I'm the nigga with the bag on 400 block

T's, P's, and B's, oh my, come clean, we slidin' on God

Twenty on his head, nigga, why not? I'm the nigga with the bag on 400 block

[Chorus: Trippie Redd & Chris King]

Hold up, ayy (Snotty), you can't bool with us, no-oh (Yeah)

(You can't, you can't, you can't bool, you can't, you can't bool)

Ayy, you can't bool with us, no-oh (Yeah)

(You can't bool, you can't bool, you ain't bool, you ain't bool)

Hold up, you can't bool with us, no-oh

(You can't bool with, you ain't, you ain't bool, you ain't, you ain't)

Uh, uh, you can't bool with us, no-oh

(You can't bool, you can't, you can't)