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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Song: | The Trophy Room |
Album: | Lucky 7 | Genres: | Hip-Hop |
Year: | 2015 |
Length: | 266 sec |
Lyrics:
[Produced by Statik Selektah]
[Verse 1: Skyzoo] I'm on my Stan Phil, little stubborn to say the least Know I stand still, no budgin' and no crease Know the plan still, it's turn 1 into 5 You literally see the double start to comin' alive Come alive like heart rates, followed by a car chase Chris Rock selfies with a top 5 arms race Moncler skullies pulled over like cover ups On the up and up, all the bottoms all Balmain So even a robbery is expensive Fly guy etiquette, my niggas get extensive Abide by peddle, a homage from off the benches And find mine buried in solemnly by the trenches Bed-Stuy's version of Nas, no mirage Freeze y'all on speed dials, the murder squads From where the arms echo like they hear the falsetto While I'm in here with a Mimi, forreal'll hold a rod That's like 3 lines in one couplet So that's 312 like I'm callin' Cabrini Or 23 on the Ouija, predicted the rings And bein' fitted for rings is the only thing we in touch with Shit I'm just tryna fill a trophy room I'm just tryna fill a trophy room Until it's no mothafuckin' room left Shit I'm just tryna fill a trophy room
[Hook] Everything just feels so perfect I'm on top of the world Top of the world On top of the world
[Verse 2: Ea$y Money] Closet full of kicks, the lot is full of whips Sippin' nothin' but the finest bottles of the Myx Tryna see it all 'fore I lie up in a ditch No takin' it with me, fuck depositing my chips They bite a nigga's dick Cause when I get bored I take a model for a trip But go dine up in the Ritz Why would I hide it if I'm rich? I'ma show off Forreal, why you think Statik signed me to the clique? Fuck you, pay me, least I said it to 'em nicely Hate me, I reflect 'em, sendin' miss precisely We put them grands in Jacksons to the safe Cause of Washingtons, we spendin' them with wifey Remember that? Thought you seen the end of that But we carry tradition, what would be the sense in that? Take though from Ea$y, might as well send it back Got goons everywhere, where you gon' spend it at? I'm done with the scramblin', pack handlin' Shook the Ds like big titty bitch dancin' If I get my chance in, I'm advancin' For the clique, kill shit like Charles and get my mans in You heard? But I'm just tryna fill the trophy room Said I'm just tryna fill the trophy room 'Til I can't step foot up in that bitch, forreal I'm just tryna fill the trophy room
[Hook] Everything just feels so perfect I'm on top of the world Top of the world On top of the world
[Verse 3: Domo Genesis] This is beautiful, ain't it? All these feelings of nostalgia ain't new to you, ain't it? I did this shit already, my niggas, viewing is tainted But watch I still kill it all through whatever arrangements Got a shot, long range, Danny Ainge 'em I can't blame 'em, I transport the message like Jason Statham Sleep is minimal, perspiration, elevated Rippin' shit easy like perforation Soon they gon' hold for investigation More soul than your grandma cookin' I wonder, got 'em hooked like I know what you did Last summer, it's a bummer tryna step to me Bein' black right now, stressin' me I'll shoot the sheriff and the deputy Smokin' mad weed so this shit do not get the best of me Stirrin' up your mental currents, word, I got the recipe Herbs, you just speakin', man, I'm more show and prove No jewelry, stack my gold in my trophy room
[Bridge] On top of the world It's funny how things change When you came from nothin' Now the world knows your name It feels so good to be livin' this life Cause we worked so hard for what we want, right
[Hook] Everything just feels so perfect I'm on top of the world Top of the world On top of the world
[Outro] Bars! What's goin' on? Drop the beat! I need a beat! Fuck it! No beat, acapella Lookin' at some Jordans, where's the fuckin' Pippins? Age be comin' in the booth, you know I'm straight spittin' With the soundproof linens, comin' through, gettin' it Martha Stewart... shit am I rappin' like RiFF RAFF right now? Laughter Larry Bird shoes, goin' through ballin'
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