CJD - TRILLW∆VE SUMM3R lyrics

[Hook] Out with hotties on the beach, n***a Then we mobbin' in the streets, n***a Going hard up on these beats, n***a Til they bring back Robin Leach, n***a Trillwave summer Trillwave summer Trillwave summer It's the trillwave summer Champagne and c**aine, tell the rap game we comin' Trillwave summer It's the trillwave summer [Verse 1] Champagne wishes, caviar dreams Setting motion to this million dollar scheme Not on the corner with the hammer and beam Won't go Hammer cause accountants will be counting up this cream n***a going mental, trying to get a dental Plan for my clan, Greenspan with financials You living provincial, I'm New York residential This pencil's all I need to be k**ing these minstrels Real black n***a, living eventful Born in Queens, n***a, be vengeful, influential 86 these instrumentals, '88 when I was born in Rain bullets on Klan torrential, leave 88ers mourning Always trill and never boring, liquor spilling in the morning To the evening, when I'm seeing girls and make their pussies pouring Take warning, like Operation Ivy We make the party lively Turn up way more than slightly [Hook] [Verse 2] Straight counterculture vibing And if you ain't unsightly, you can ride me Feel like Scorsese, cause I'm out with good fellas Got my n***as in Brooklyn, and we're going gorillas First crib looked like Manila, second looks like Milan They don't want us succeeding, they want us to get gone Don't want us to drop bombs or become icons Put us in Section 8, treat it like District 9 The girls around me are tens, so I'm saying they're dimes My swag turned up to eleven, I'm spinal tapping with rhymes Slim like Dunkin, no Hines My wallet's crispy with cream My face's pages be sticky in your girl's magazines Jolly giant with green, I'm like Walter with white In the bathroom with coke, you're on the sofa with sprite This the end of the tape, time to let it take flight So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodnight [ending] They're calling me a n***a and a f*g Trying to put me in a bag I ain't stopping 'til my toe's got a tag And my clothes turn to rags And my bones turn to ash And on that day, don't bother praying God hates swag, n***a