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