Chris Crack - Post Traumatic Trust Issues lyrics | LyricsFreak
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Post Traumatic Trust Issues Lyrics

Chris Crack – Post Traumatic Trust Issues Lyrics

[Verse 1: Your Old Droog]
Sometimes I gotta get away, lay low [?]
What you know when I get back to the
Iron mics, we dueling, dropped out in ninth grade
I couldn’t do the schooling, and the block was too hot
So in the stew we cooling, take my jacket off
Kicking up my feet, order grub to the lab
Doggie I swear I eat, that’s been the truth
So in the booth is where I rest my dome, but I’m bone
So I wherever I lay my raps my home
We got refreshments, pack of Altoids, that’s some freshness
For from freshmens, post up by the boards
Finessing sessions, [?] to come and test wild d
It be the ending near, pull your files like a engineer
Without no pro-tools, I demote fools, bring ‘em
Down to Fruity Loops, no Ableton, shoulda done this younger
Wasn’t able then, was some reckless ass kids
Now we stable men, learned to be be smart consumers
Read the labelling, on tour I fucks with the shawties
But we ain’t in the telle watching Maury, I need somebody
To record me, everywhere I go I spark a bowl then mark
My territory, come back home off the road, like wanna hear a story

[Chorus: Chris Crack]
They wouldn’t let my bitch in the club
They wouldn’t let my bitch in the club
They wouldn’t let my bitch in the club
They wouldn’t let my bitch in the club

[Verse 2: Chris Crack]
They wouldn’t let my bitch in but I’m still lit
Popping bottles ‘round this bitch, I found this shit
The most I been having so I enjoy my sess
I don’t hop in no ghost, bitch I’mma smoke when I smoke
Let me get back to unlimited quotes, encyclopedia
Seizing me now she won’t be with me, ‘fore I was hot
She would sleep with me, relax for a minute
You could find me cooking tracks for a minute
Get back for a minute, ride through slick
Hit the trap for a minute, two clique gangs
Was a rap for a minute, I ain’t even hit them
With the slap for a minute, get back for a minute
It was do or die, rolled in the Lexus, death wish
I ain’t even stressing, blessing to all my dead ones
Shawty gotta left for a nigga, if he said something
Now she wanna ride ‘cause a nigga kinda fresh
Hurt her heart now she grinding on the chest
You could find me in the best car, [?]
That’s summertime back so that kinda means I’m balling
Shout out to the niggas that be paying in installments
Don’t fall in love, just fall in line, it’s all the times
Do prop the nines, I’mma lock my shine
Got my eyes, don’t knock my dice
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