High End - Westbay, Troy Ave

Ain’t nobody wanna earn their stripes

They just wanna act hard, talk tough but they never wanna fight

Drive a hundred thousand dollar car, never wanna grind all night

Time to pull your card, time to see whose really about that life,

for too long yo I’ve been too nice

Ok now stand back

Everybody give me room, don’t be stepping on my air max

Let me do what I do, spit truth on these damn tracks

So high in the booth, why you think they call me ClimaX?

I’ll turn your city into Iraq, Everybody now

Rock with me as I switch the flow, money on the table, I get the dough

Yea your boy bad, I’m with Troy Ave, about five hoes and brick of blow (like

yeah, wooh)

Oh thats your girl?

Ya’ll two be a pair?

I fucked her last year (Uh), one more time

And this fake shit, it need to stop, I seen this mother fucker at the pizza shop

He had a 5 dollar bill and some crumpled up ones, and on Instagram he’s holding

up a knot, I’m like please (wooh)

Got a car and a bank account thats on E, so why ya girl chose me

Cause you don’t do it like this (up and down)

Drop top in the whip, you don’t do it like this (up and down)

Every night another bitch, you don’t do it like this (up and down)

Might do alotta that, you don’t do alotta this

That boy he wish, that he could do it like this (up and down)

Drop top in the whip, you don’t do it like this (up and down)

Every night another bitch, you don’t do it like this (up and down)

Might do alotta that, you don’t do alota this

Get money get rich, cause you don’t do it like this

Verse 2: Troy Ave

Two Glock nines automatic stash it pull it out then tote

Two hundred K for the yay I pay, and get it by the boat

Dope dealing, 4 wheeling profit off high hopes

Ski man, turned he-man, life is one big slope

Up and down like prayers from the pope

Play both sides prepare to be smoked

People gonna beg you, people gonna stress you

Shit my favorite word is nope

Self made, got loyalty to who get me paid

Royalty is what we obtain, through the smarts muscle and blood stains

It’s a art to hustle no front page, I’m flamboyant but low key

I want money, not no trophy, got enough gold in my roley

I came up gritty, got my name up you sh*tty

Now Troy Ave that n*gga, outta New York City (powder)