Trae tha Truth
Karate
[Intro]
You know, This just some real n***a shit, a real n***a story
You know what I’m saying?

[Hook]
Slang a bunch of narcotics
Pull up in the new ‘rarri
Living like John Gotti
Chopping bricks like karate
Drink a bunch of codeine
Serve it to the dope fiends
Blowing money, stay clean
Michael Jackson, Billy Jean

[Verse 1: Trae Tha Truth]
Pull up in a Panamera lookin so clean
Weaving in and out of traffic like it’s on lean
Call me murda n***a, tryna kill the whole scene
Getting money like I’m tryna feed the whole team
No lie, Im'a do it for the whole south
Somebody better tell them other n***as hold off
Keep fuckin with a n***a, Im'a go off
Jump fly, Im'a run up in that ho mouth
Gotta hella short temper, n***a money long
Leave holes in a n***a like a honey comb
Kill shit like I do a n***a, n***a’s on
Asshole, you can see I’m in another zone
Real n***a kick shit like karate
Chop n***as up like I’m tryna cook beef
Bitch wanna fuck, gotta put er on a leash
Before I run up in er, then I put er back up there out on the street
Any time I cop a whip I’m goin floss
N***a this hit the turn on lil boss
When it come to Houston, Texas that’s me
Tell em I’m ten for ten with no loss
[Verse 2: Future]
Got a Panamera round a young n***a neck
Got a young bitch pulling up in a vet
Smoke a lot of kush & I have a lot of sex
Had to beat the grind up, ran up my check
Bitch n***a get money, n***a get that
Roll a blunt of chronic, n***a sell a lot of crack
You can hit a n***a line, order what you want
I can whoop a Maserati, pulling up a donk
50,000 on yo watch, young n***a splurge
Pop a ace of spade bottle, sip a lot of syrup
Keep a young n***a workin’ that’ll bust a k
I’mma take a phone call, hustle everyday

[Hook]
Slang a bunch of narcotics
Pull up in the new ‘rarri
Living like John Gotti
Chopping bricks like karate
Drink a bunch of codeine
Serving to the dope fiends
Blowing money, stay clean
Michael Jackson, Billy Jean

[Verse 3: Future]
Whipping up a cake, just to go and snatch a spider
Young n***a play with keys, like a type writer
Al Capone, John Gotti was a n***a idol
I was never snitching, I can put it on the Bible
In a 4 door beamer, driving with a rifle
N***a where you at, n***a we gon pull up on ya
Young Bitch looking like Janet in the 80′s
We was grinding up from a tube and a baby
Got the girl dripping wet like a jerry curl
Got that styrofoam cup and its full of syrup
Send it over from Lil Mexico & Let me Work
I can get 36 for a clean shirt
[Hook]
Slang a bunch of narcotics
Pull up in the new ‘rarri
Living like John Gotti
Chopping bricks like karate
Drink a bunch of codeine
Serving to the dope fiends
Blowing money, stay clean
Michael Jackson, Billy Jean