Lil Gnar – Missiles (ft. Trippie Redd) (Audio, Lyrics, Video)

Lil Gnar - Missiles (ft. Trippie Redd) (prod. Diego Ave & Bankroll Got It)

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Lil Gnar Missiles
Lil Gnar Missiles

Lil Gnar and Trippie Redd are two artists who are known for their off-the-wall energy, so it only makes sense that the two would join forces on a brand new track that is nothing short of a banger. On Friday, the two dropped their collaborative effort “Missiles,” and there is certainly a lot to be excited about here.

The production features some booming 808s, all while violins and classic strings are placed in the background, which adds a cinematic feel to the track. From there, Lil Gnar and Trippie deliver braggadocios lyrics that help complement the high-octane production.

Lil Gnar – Missiles (ft. Trippie Redd) (prod. Diego Ave & Bankroll Got It)

Lyrics

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[Intro: Lil Gnar & Lil Pump]
(D-Diego)
(B-B-Bankroll got it)
Dig?

[Chorus: Lil Gnar]
Slurp it up, bitch, make a mess (Yeah)
When I pull up, you hear the ‘Vette (Skrrt)
Baguettes, they fall off my neck
I’m smokin’ that Za’ to the chest (Pressure)
Ran that shit up off the muscle (Dig)
Walk with the Glock, I don’t tussle (Dig)
Niggas talk shit, it ain’t nothin’ (For real)
Three-hundred, all cash, how I’m comin’ (Uh-huh)

[Verse 1: Lil Gnar]
I’m a real rockstar, came from the trenches
Now I got bitches on bitches on bitches (Yeah, yeah)
Throw him the cutter, my young nigga hit you
He just gon’ get your ass for a lil’ fifty (Yeah)
Ballin’ out just like I’m Madden
Excuse my bad language, I think I’m the shit (Yeah, for real)
Take a PJ out to Cali’ to grab some Biscotti, it’s smellin’ like piss
Doubled up (Dope), I’m pourin’ my stress in this double cup
Remember, I ran my first hundred up (Hundred up)
My Draco got titties, a honeybun (Honeybun)
Shoot in the crowd, you ain’t takin’ my chain
Your ass finna crash out, you swerve in my lane (No kizzy)
Only do guap-anese, speakin’ that language (Cash)
My young niggas Brims, they twistin’ they fingers
I swerve in the double R, keep me a banger (Yeah)
Couple snow bunnies, they stay in Topanga
Brushin’ my WAP with some toothpaste (Toothpaste)
VVS on my gums, ain’t no tooth fake (Tooth fake)
R.I.P. Nip’, need a blue Wraith (R.I.P.)
These diamonds HD like a Blu-Ray (HD)
She eat out the kid like a buffet (Yeah)
I been raw as fuck, you just too late, yeah (Yeah, yeah)

[Chorus: Lil Gnar & Trippie Redd]
Slurp it up, bitch, make a mess (Hell, yeah)
When I pull up, you hear the ‘Vette (Hell, yeah, skrrt)
Baguettes, they fall off my neck (Hell, yeah, for real)
I’m smokin’ that Za’ to the chest (Hell, yeah, dig)
Ran that shit up off the muscle (I ran that shit up)
Walk with the Glock, I don’t tussle (Walk with the fuckin’ Glock)
Niggas talk shit, it ain’t nothin’ (Yeah)
Three-hundred (Yeah), all cash, how I’m comin’ (Yeah, hell, yeah)

[Verse 2: Trippie Redd & Lil Gnar]
Your bitch blew me like a whistle (Phew)
I keep me two pistols, I feel just like Texas Ranger (Bah)
Know that I keep me some missiles
Won’t be hard to hit you, lil’ bitch, I ain’t gotta aim (Yeah, okay)
Know that I drip in Versace, Armani my body (Yeah)
Lil’ bitch, it ain’t got a stain (Yeah, woo)
I count hundreds and fifties, I take a lil’ tootsie to Johnny and buy me a new chain
Everyday is a movie, I keep me some clips, lil’ nigga, I shoot ’em like Blu-Ray (Yeah)
My lil’ baby flyin’ like she up in the skies, she up like a blue jay (Yeah, yeah)
Just bought an AP and deep dished that bitch with a red face (Yeah, yeah)
Heard niggas in the streets talkin’, I ain’t worried ’bout what the dead say

[Chorus: Lil Gnar]
Slurp it up, bitch, make a mess (Hell, yeah)
When I pull up, you hear the ‘Vette (Hell, yeah, skrrt)
Baguettes, they fall off my neck (Hell, yeah, for real)
I’m smokin’ that Za’ to the chest (Hell, yeah, dig)
Ran that shit up off the muscle (I ran that shit up)
Walk with the Glock, I don’t tussle (Walk with the fuckin’ Glock)
Niggas talk shit, it ain’t nothin’ (Hell, yeah, yeah)
Three-hundred, all cash, how I’m comin’ (Hell, yeah)
Slurp it up, bitch, make a mess (Hell, yeah)
When I pull up, you hear the ‘Vette (Hell, yeah, skrrt)
Baguettes, they fall off my neck (Hell, yeah, for real)
I’m smokin’ that Za’ to the chest (Hell, yeah, dig)
Ran that shit up off the muscle (I ran that shit up)
Walk with the Glock, I don’t tussle (Walk with the fuckin’ Glock)
Niggas talk shit, it ain’t nothin’ (Hell, yeah, yeah)
Three-hundred, all cash, how I’m comin’ (Hell, yeah)

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