T-Pain Ft. Young Cash & Sean Jay – Trust Issues Lyrics

One day ni**a’s gone learn not to f**k with me
The heater on my side, I’ll burn me a f**k ni**a
F*** ni**a, I got trust issues, I don’t really trust ni**a’s
You only got one life to live, might as well turn up ni**a

(Verse 1)
Better duck ni**a, unless you got a bulletproof truck ni**a
Cause you the only one throwing money in the club
You the only one that’s gone be stuck ni**a
Your ass out of luck ni**a, tryna stunt but you’re stunting too much ni**a
And my face just way too pretty
So I ain’t tryna punch ni**a’s
What’s up ni**a?
Everything cool right now but it could go left
So I don’t trust ni**a’s, no ni**a’s, I don’t even trust myself
It get deeper, mama said y’all ni**a’s don’t give a f**k till the crew hot
And I believe her
One of these days you ni**a’s gonna try to take me out like 2Pac

(Repeat Chorus)

(Verse 2 – Young Cash)
I done laid in a ni**a’s bushes 3 whole days and 3 whole nights
Just served that boy a whole thing but I got to get my s**t
I got trust issues, I don’t f**k with you, ni**a might be them federals
So I serve a ni**a then rob a bank, hit the strip club then blow a check
Ni**a on G code, since serving out the trap out the peephole
Got a sawed off shotty and an automatic weapon
On the couch sitting there like it’s legal
And no ni**a, I am no Migo
I’m a Floyd ni**a and you can get your issue
And I don’t even trust you ni**a’s in my dreams
So you know a ni**a still sleeping with the pistol
Like that

(Repeat Chorus)

(Verse 3 – Sean Jay)
I’m ahead of my time, and everybody late
Ain’t nobody real, everybody fake
I’m a diamond in the rough man, you just fugazi
Smokers can’t stand me, them lil ni**a’s hate me
Nappy Boy s**t, we make bread
Cut a ni**a off like T-Pain’s dreads
If Cash don’t like you, I don’t f**k with you
99 percent of these boys f*** ni**a’s
And 99 percent of these rappers nowadays is gay
On the low they probably f**k ni**a’s
And that’s where you lost me
Before I trust ni**a’s I’d rather take prescription pills from Bill Cosby
Two words for you, blucker blucker
Clique tighter than pants on thumper, thumper
Then get robbed, see them killers in the masks
You ain’t on this song, got a bullet for your ass like

(Repeat Chorus)

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