Up & Down

[Verse 1: Pressa & Houdini]
Gucci line and pana match my kick
She got those big ol' tits that match her hip
And my niggas better ride, you get pitched
She want love when Pressa need a brick
He tried to slide, unfortunate he's hammer glitched
I'm makin all this money now I feel like Mitch
I couldn't care about a nigga or a bitch
I couldn't leave the trap I'd miss a whole lotta nips
And all features that I buy, it's on my wrist
Ordinary block boy just a lil bit from rich
Put that thirty in the glam, now we walkin wit a stick
And trap house it got big, boss Pressa he get big
Feels good ion gotta see my lawyer
Still wit tha shits you know i'm still tryna avoid her
I know they mad cause a nigga crossed tha border
He been sittin on dat pack called that kid a lil horder
He called me a drug dealer, call me Richie Porter
Shooting no forward, ballin like Jalen Poyser
Trap house borin but we still placin orders
Quarter-brick, half a brick feel like a OG (aye, aye)

[Verse 2: Houdini]
Trappin my genetics
Dem trips, I won't regret it
Real grains, no pellet
Free my fellow felons
Drop top on Sunset, lil bitch can't get in
Even niggas upset, Valentino steppin
Got two in my cup, wit two grams in my blunt
Dare a nigga try some
Hot shit make his run
They ain't even up
Move like they be up
I can't trust a bitch
Or can't trust a slut
She up on tha kid
She can't get enough
Like glue, move it stuck
Got wassas in tha cut
You save money, don't buy love
Shoutout tha plug, still give me one
Don't feel like you put me on
Still got it on my own

[Verse 3: Pressa]
My opps ain't a problem
My shooters on parole
My niggas in jail cells
Bad bitches answer phones
Dat nigga on fire like stop, drop, and roll
You want a boatload but can't even drive a boat
Remind me redfox, put em on the Redbox
Niggas pulled up on me, almost shot me by tha greenbox
We was talkin trappin, turn down when tha stove hot
They was talkin sit down and sit down like my grandpa
Sit down like my lola
Best again get some lola
And i'm feelin beamer but I ain't goin back home (yuh)
Shooters they gon on ya
Shooters they all on ya
And my grandma said don't trust niggas they go code red
I'm dat nigga they wanna know
Trap house wit double phones
Used to get it in by the low
Bricks are high in tha low
If you really know what I mean
Trap house runnin like Krispy Kreme
I'ma vampire needa feed
He gon vomit when you breathe
The opps they gon bleed and just bleed
Headshot on tha scene
Yeah, he miskeen
Yeah my warayahs on debris