Meek Mill – Trap Vibes (Summer Sixteen & Panda Remix) Lyrics

Turn me up some Cruz
I told Barcelini if them ni**as hating they gon suffer
I’m goin up a hundred every day
You know how I play!

Skinny ni**a in the Benz truck
Swinging through like a nunchuck
Summertime bring them 30s out
Tell Cool put the sticks up
Wait hold up, hold up
How can ni**as go against us?
Cold pussies wouldn’t even shoot us
See us roll on em like a lint brush
Phil moving out them bandos
We ain’t leaving til the brick’s done
Couple hundred, we gon vac seal em
Just to ride with it like a Brinks truck
Wait, wait, Louboutins and the wrist bust
Bi**h you claiming I done been f**k
You ain’t even gotta trip, bruh
In the trenches in the Maybach
F**k I even got the tint for?
I’m the only ni**a got one
Who the f**k I gotta hide from?
Barcelini riding shotgun
Shooters with him, never mindni**a
Young ni**as on Sigel Street
Word to Mack, they’ll rock something
Wait, wait!
North side of Philly my side of town
Bulletproof whip when I ride around
Ni**as talk s**t when I’m not around
Wouldn’t tell you that we run the city
But we moving, gotta say we jogging now
Hit the city and we running down
Ain’t no running now, ni**as out of bounds
Plug this, plug that
Ni**as rapping, they ain’t never sold nothing
Hold this hold that
I ain’t letting these ni**as hold nothing
Summertime, ni**as copping foreign whips
You can tell the Lord coming
Put my name on the flyer
All the trappers, all the bad hoes coming
Ni**as d*ckriding other ni**as, that’s a trend now
I’m still rocking with the same Chasers I’ve been round
Got so much work out we might slim down
I’m so popping all my haters turn friends now
Diamonds dancing like Mike Jackson
S**t shining like Mike’s jacket
Moonwalking in a Rolls Royce
Through the rearview, see my life backwards
Percocets, popped two 10s on a 20, ni**a now I ain’t active
So wavy, ni**a I ain’t rapping
Can’t tell me that I ain’t swagging, no way

This summer right here, ni**a
We going up
Litted, it’s litted

I’m with broads in Atlanta
Bunch of drugs and the Fanta
Bunch of guns in the Phantom
Spending money like a scammer
My young ni**as in the kitchen whipping
Whipping, living large at the hammer
Ducking large and the scammers
Free my dawgs out the slammer
Black car, panther
Shorty call, never answer
20 foreigns in the mansion
Diamonds on me and they dancing
I don’t really understand rappers
Ni**as jumping on bandwagons
All these bands got my pants sagging
Six threes on the Benz wagon
62s on the Maybach
B*tch I’m coming for the payback
62s in the pot, ni**a
Tryna whip it up and bring it way back
You in the club and spending your cop money
All on the Gram acting like that you got money
We looking at you like you need to stop money
You killing yourself with that lil half a block money
I got that go to the mall and get what I want paper
You the type hoping I fall, that’s what you want, hater
Member back when I was broke? I only had one hater
These s**kers gon hate you no matter you broke or you own paper
Hundred bands, added up
We getting money, they mad at us
At the jeweler buying more Rollies
I don’t think these ni**as man enough
F**k them ni**as, s**t we stunting on em
Ni**as, they ain’t got nothing on us
Ni**as that we never f**k with
Run and telling people that we fronted on em
Ni**a made me put a hundred on you
Do you dirty, put the drummer on you
Shots never stopping, pop, pop, pop, pop
We’ll run up on you
Dead bodies, homicide
Head shot, mama cry
Cops looking, got an alibi
Lawyer money, ni**a, buying time
Hold! They hit my ni**a Chino in his head
Hold! Took him to my ni**a ain’t dead
No! Ball in Miami on Sunday, we did
Ho! Blowing the racks, we evaded the Gram
All black Panamera
White bi**h named Samantha
White and black, she a panda
White and black, she a panda
Whipping the… rock with the

I should have just run with the rest