Trap Shit V9 (Shit I Ain't Got)

[Hook] Panamera models, Maserati crib Lamborghini ceilings in the building where we live Aston Martin bitches, snitches on Houdini Fuck it man cause I don't even own a Lamborghini [Verse 1] I ain't got a Murci, I ain't got a car I don't fuck with thousand dollar bottles at the bar I ain't got a Lotus, I can't drive a stick I ain't got a Kardashian ridin on my dick I ain't got a Maybach, barely got a paycheck Stripper told me make it rain I said I'll take a rain-check I ain't been to Paris, no one trynna fly me Don't know how to ball, and ain't nobody trynna find me I ain't got a Rose, I ain't got a Miller I ain't got a deal owe a hundred to my dealer All I want is Jays, but all I got is Filas They coppin red bottoms but my bottoms all vanilla Can't be jockin blades, can't be jockin dubs Asked for Ace of Spades but they brought me Two of Clubs Got no one to fuck, might as well go home Cause everybody in this club is fucking with their phones [Hook] [Verse 2] I ain't got that gliss, I ain't got that shine Your girl got a wrist, you be paying all the time Pears and lemon lime, all that shit is borin Only grill I got cosigned by George Foreman I ain't got that Bentley, I ain't got a Benz All I got is homies, can't afford fugazi friends Dump them groupie tens, all them bitches fickle Fuck them fancy dimes, I be fucking two nickles Say 'Ye, Say 'Ye, ain't this muhfucking crazy? All we got is pain, and they bathin in champa-zay They be coppin rays, and we be coppin shady Who the fuck is flyin all these hoes to San Trope-zay I ain't got that Louis, I ain't got that Kors I ain't got that Gucci, I ain't welcome in their stores Fuck a label whore, I ain't got the skrill So when I die, bury me up in the Taco Bell [Hook] [Interlude] That's that shit, that shit That shit I ain't got That's that shit I ain't got [Hook]