Trap Shit V9 (Shit I Ain’t Got)

[Hook]
Panamera models, Maserati crib
Lamborghini ceilings in the building where we live
Aston Martin bitches, snitches on Houdini
Fuck it man cause I don't even own a Lamborghini

[Verse 1]
I ain't got a Murci, I ain't got a car
I don't fuck with thousand dollar bottles at the bar
I ain't got a Lotus, I can't drive a stick
I ain't got a Kardashian ridin on my dick
I ain't got a Maybach, barely got a paycheck
Stripper told me make it rain
I said I'll take a rain-check
I ain't been to Paris, no one trynna fly me
Don't know how to ball, and ain't nobody trynna find me
I ain't got a Rose, I ain't got a Miller
I ain't got a deal owe a hundred to my dealer
All I want is Jays, but all I got is Filas
They coppin red bottoms but my bottoms all vanilla
Can't be jockin blades, can't be jockin dubs
Asked for Ace of Spades but they brought me Two of Clubs
Got no one to fuck, might as well go home
Cause everybody in this club is fucking with their phones

[Hook]
Panamera models, Maserati crib
Lamborghini ceilings in the building where we live
Aston Martin bitches, snitches on Houdini
Fuck it man cause I don't even own a Lamborghini

[Verse 2]
I ain't got that gliss, I ain't got that shine
Your girl got a wrist, you be paying all the time
Pears and lemon lime, all that shit is borin
Only grill I got cosigned by George Foreman
I ain't got that Bentley, I ain't got a Benz
All I got is homies, can't afford fugazi friends
Dump them groupie tens, all them bitches fickle
Fuck them fancy dimes, I be fucking two nickles
Say 'Ye, Say 'Ye, ain't this muhfucking crazy?
All we got is pain, and they bathin in champa-zay
They be coppin rays, and we be coppin shady
Who the fuck is flyin all these hoes to San Trope-zay
I ain't got that Louis, I ain't got that Kors
I ain't got that Gucci, I ain't welcome in their stores
Fuck a label whore, I ain't got the skrill
So when I die, bury me up in the Taco Bell

[Hook]

[Interlude]
That's that shit, that shit
That shit I ain't got
That's that shit I ain't got

[Hook]