Zonin’ lyrics

Rolling my weed
Smoking my smoke
Big 4-0
Swear by the tone
Roll with your b*tch
Smoke with my clique
She all on my di*k
I know I'm the sh*t
They call me Fat Trel, skip over the jail
Mother-f*ck the cell
I just pay the bail
I just pay the bond. (muah)
I just pay your Mom. (muah)
I just payed for five arms to spray up the prom. (baow!)
How I get it
Live it how it's written
Lovely how I spit it
Money never trick it
b*tches always get it
pus*y never split it
How I get with it
See you when I miss it
And I love to twerk, smoke a lot of purp
All my b*tches, all my b*tches love to work.(muah)
Perfect, f*ckin' nurses
You worthless, I'm walking shirtless. (baow!)
With a 30 on me
Got 'bout 30 on me
You don't want it homie
Got 'bout 30 on me
And I'm real high
G Star fly
Call me Fat Gleesh
Fat Popeye. (baow!)
Call me Fat Trel. (baow!)
Skip over the jail. (baow!)
f*ck the cell. (baow!)
Just count the mail. (baow!)
Just pay the bail. (baow!)
Dolo what you know. (baow!)
4 nights, good weed, backwood smoke.(baow!)
Oochie Wally Mami
She f*ckin' Oochie
She f*ckin' Trel
We eating sushi
I'm eating coochie
Shell trife
Me, I need your wife
And I need her tonight
I need her with ice
And Rose
And Bombay
Gin, and watch me gets it in.(muah)
Phone he know my man
No he not my friend
Phone short me, that's the SB
Car shade, that's the SG
Roll 'round with Boosa
Boosa be my shooter. (baow!)
Boosa got a Ruger. (baow!)
Clip look like the ruler. (baow!)
Aimed at your medulla. (baow!)
You don't want work. (baow!)
We don't want problems
We just want the purp
I just want your b*tch
Lift up her skirt
f*ck me like she love me
Although I'm ugly
Although I'm dirty, still walk with 30's. (baow!)
Still smoking ounces
I'm with the mountains
I'm with the trees, give her what she needs
She say she need me, that's Fat Gleesh
She say she need weed, with no seeds
She say she need Sprite, she need lean
She say she needs molly, she needs beans
She say she need a dream, she need a team
She say she needs some shows, need some shirts
She say she needs clothes, she need a hearse
Cause I killed, murked, and I'm smoking purp
Goons still lurk
Boosa still twerk
Call 'em Bam-Bams or call 'em, grams
Watch out for your bags, look out for your man
Look out for your mother, lie for your brother. (baow!)
Die for your man, make 'em understand. (baow!)
Motherf*ck the judge, walk with a grudge
Walking with a 40 and I'm walking with a mug
Walking 'round with drugs, two quarts
It's real life, f*ck what you thought
It's Fat Trel, it's Fat Gleesh
I'm north-east
We E-Street
Hey Bam-Bams, we SB
Do what we want
f*ck who we want
Say what we want
Smoke what we want
Drink what we want
Blink if you want. (baow!)
You gon' die
My n*ggas gon' ride
Your homicide look like suicide
When are you gon' realize?
That Fat Trel certified, that's why my Twitter verified
I never lie
I never play. (baow!)
All I did was fry. (baow!)
See you the team, but I'm the coach
I call the plays
I sell the coke
I make the dope
I'm smoking smoke
I'm drinking drink
I love to toke
So f*ck you mean?
My whip clean
It's not mines, it came from 45
Shovel f*ckin' road, that's to leave you stowed
b*tch you know I roll, smoking Nova Scotia
Drinking on some potion
Call that sh*t La Poach
And her skin soft, that's a good lotion
And you not strokin', strokin'
And she let me poke it
And the beat gone, but the beat not open