Tris J - Grind Like Me lyrics

[Intro: Caleb James] Coach K, what up big dog? Kobe, Juice [Verse 1: Caleb James] Boy you f**ing with that peg money bank mob Keep on flashing all that money get your bank robbed I'm sitting on 24's, new paint job I call your baby mama up and get a crank job Your b**h bad man I'm talking Kim Porter fine And she bust it wide open like a Jordan sign I'm steady posted up with my n***a [?] We getting so much bread the feds think we serving 8-balls If a n***a out of line, put him in his place If a n***a talking sh**, sock him in his face See me in the club wilding and I'm going hard Two fingers in the air, SaveMoney Squad Blowing on them trees, bad b**h double D's n***as popping triple C's and we saving all the fees I got pimps, I got gimps, in the booth I'm the truth Take a couple shots of Henny, know that get a n***a loose [Hook: Chance the Rapper and Caleb James] These n***as out here working, these n***as out here chilling She t**ng for a living, and working is a k**ing And a dime up in my pocket, got hundreds in my ceiling That stunner sh** is dead, cause savior man [?] Cause ain't nobody grinding hard like me x5 [Verse 2: Tris J] Tris mane gonna get 'em, keep a box of toothpicks with him I put 30 on your mama, couple big ones on my woman Going harder than your denim, Caleb got me grilling We be doing what they hate doing, better known as women Honies want to freak me, man I swear I love it I just him 'em on site, swear they never see my covers Tris mane got 'em by the dozen, ask your second cousin She say, "f** you talking bout?" He keep it cracking, popping bubbly So y'all better watch y'all girls, one of y'all in pearls Boy I get ahold of them hoes, got 'em wetter than y'all girls This one off, Savemoney in the clique LA swag, blowing cookie in the whip [Hook: Chance the Rapper and Caleb James] [Verse 3: Brian Fresco] Super stupid stupid fruity ooey gooey loud I be moving, truly cruising, b**hes grooving in the crowd Think your booming? Man my n***as we be serving by the pound George Gervin with the loud, finger flip the bird with style Ugh these n***as ain't counting no chips, ain't got no bricks On my soul, you f** n***as ain't really on sh**, got n***as with clips That's on my soul, my home, my home Said I put that on my mind, my dome Motherf**ers can't grind like me I'm in my zone, on my own, me and Caleb on patron Finna cop a redbone so the team can get blown I be gone, b**hes all in my phone Talking 'bout this land I own On my slow, n***as run Chicago [Hook: Chance the Rapper and Caleb James]