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Trouble – Medusa Lyrics

Medusa By Trouble

Hey

No strings attached, mmk

Chanel put on yo frames

And on yo back, mmk

Don’t go to looking strange

When I go tat yo face

I don’t look like that when

You be asking me bout racks, mmk

Hop on this d—, just like a scooter

Brand new whip, with old money

Like my cougar

Designer got that s— sittin

Fat is that Medusa

These n—– ain’t real

And I ain’t bool with that

I just might shoot ya

I f— with King and Dill for real, so free BB

I was getting some Lip Service just like GiGi

I remember a b—- curved me, then I had a three piece

Talking bout the same time, my future Bright no TV

Get off my d— b—-, damn hoe I gotta pee pee

I had a shootout, who pick the youngins up?

That was Neek Neek, keep gettin this paper

I don’t want ya talking bout free me

But a n—- tried damn, guess you just got to free me

If I’m hoppin outside of a Phantom

40, inside of my hand

Ballerinas on me keep on dancing

Trappin outside of Atlantic

Send my lil b—- to go grab it

Gettin to the money a habit

She be ocean wet she the atlantic

Got another hoe stuck on the campus

She be mixing her drink with the addy

She be like Trouble come back with my panties

I just want the paper baby swear I’m not a fan of that

Cause then you gone want s— free

And I gotta get my cheese

It’s different if you was my bish

Imma bless you, yes indeed

Hey

No strings attached, mmk

Chanel put on yo frames

And on yo back, mmk

Don’t go to looking strange

When I go tat yo face

I don’t look like that when

You be asking me bout racks, mmk

Hop on this d—, just like a scooter

Brand new whip, with old money

Like my cougar

Designer got that s— sittin

Fat is that Medusa

These n—– ain’t real

And I ain’t bool with that

I just might shoot ya

Plain Jane on my wrist a Hell Cat okay

Gas Kenmore Stove

Pass me that Old Bay

Rolls Truck on C’s old J

If you ain’t get no paper you ain’t got no say

On the sidelines n—- cause we not gon play

We stand up guys cause we not gon lay

A bunch of S Curl n—– how we not gon spray

Yeah we saw who did it but we not gon say

Hoppin up out of out of the Don

Boxes of Louis Vuitton

I put the ground on the map

That why they call me the Don

I put the light on the streets

That why they call me the goat

If it’s a hustler parade

They gotta make me a float

Tell them I said it I meant it and I quote it

Put the city on the map and you know it

Seven days out of the week wear black

Seven days out of the week stay strapped

Top down ridin’ down Old Nat

Brave game big clip fall back

First mill I made that on rap

Put the trap on the map no cap

Hey

No strings attached, mmk

Chanel put on yo frames

And on yo back, mmk

Don’t go to looking strange

When I go tat yo face

I don’t look like that when

You be asking me bout racks, mmk

Hop on this d—, just like a scooter

Brand new whip, with old money

Like my cougar

Designer got that s— sittin

Fat is that Medusa

These n—– ain’t real

And I ain’t bool with that

I just might shoot ya

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