Federal Offenses

[Intro]
(Come on, little Guppy, come on, little Guppy)

[Verse 1: Sweet T]
Call me what you want but I would call me clever
Moving grams, no Aubrey, I want this shit forever
They think I don't want pressure 'cause I'm built like a feather
Boy, my blick is a heffer and it's with me wherever
Started off slow, now I'm on a whole 'nother tier
Big Sweet in this bitch with the trapper of the year
Carti' horns on my face help me see this shit clear
Big rounds on the choppa, knocked the horns off a deer

[Verse 2: Certified Trapper]
See you on Billboard, I need to go (Darker)
'Web getting lockеd, lil' nigga, I need more [?]
Me and Sweet went crazy on thеy block, they need four stretchers
Where the fuck you think you going lil' boy? I'm finna blow at you
Huh, yeah, bring yo' ass here
Lil' freak bitch with me but her ass weird
Fuck dude, we done left his ass in last year
Real active, spend racks with the cashier

[Verse 3: Sweet T]
Up at Hutch, told 'em swap out the lenses
30 on me, it'll bring you to your senses
I cover my expenses with federal offenses
I up the blick everywhere, you would think I'm from Memphis
Think you could best me? You're in denial
Caught a opp at the store and cleansed every isle
So many blicks in the crib, I had to start a pile
I'll pick this bitch up and lay you down like some tile

[Verse 4: Certified Trapper]
I'll get to rocking out
This a Hellcat, bitch, I'm finna toss you 'round
If you threw a Perc' back, you finna cough it out
I just knocked her shit back, she gotta walk it out
Finna get me a Faygo just to go K.O.ㅤ
Put me on the payroll, I hit [?]
If you trapping out Fazos, yeah, I'm finna lace those
I've been putting in hours 'cause I'm tryna get pesos

[Verse 5: Sweet T]
I've been making boss moves, you play kid games
Cali' crud got me looking like a member of the Squid Games
Told my girl, "Don't drop the government, only use my nickname"
Never mind who you thought I was like Rick James
Don't start shit with me, my blick be shooting flames
Your whole crew be strapped but y'all don't got no aim

[Verse 6: Certified Trapper]
Transport to the dealer
I caught him at the light, I don't really like to litter
BBL ass so it's only right to hit her
Getting that motherfucker right, it's really fat, it just look fake
I get a crick in my back when I cook yay
Ayy, I woke up today with a new motive
'Tron just brought in a pint, I need two sodas
Put a hole in a lil' nigga head, nigga, like a donut
Running out the venue, bitches wanna blow us
Running laps 'round that bitch like we in 'Conas
If it ain't money in my pocket then I can't focus
Pull up, slide on a nigga for the pape' you owe us

[Verse 7: Sweet T]
We'll slide down 'bout the pape' even if it's light
Long as that paper come first, I'll get you right
Big blicky on my hip, I'm not finna fight
Bruh thought he was Superman, I bet I got the Kryptonite
'Bout to tell your girl to slide into the crib tonight
Then I'm 'bout to clap it down, Certified Trapper sounds
I mean, a whole bunch of slappin' sounds
When you come around my way, you gotta check in
I'll put the burner down and whoop you like it's Tekken
Big Sweet is a force with not to be reckoned
Put some cheese on your head and get you gone in a second