Songtext The trophy room Statik Selektah

The trophy room

I'm on my Stan Phil, little stubborn to say the least
Know I stand still, no budgin' and no crease
Know the plan still, it's turn 1 into 5
You literally see the double start to comin' alive
Come alive like heart rates, followed by a car chase
Chris Rock selfies with a top 5 arms race
Moncler skullies pulled over like cover ups
On the up and up, all the bottoms all Balmain
So even a robbery is expensive
Fly guy etiquette, my niggas get extensive
Abide by peddle, a homage from off the benches
And find mine buried in solemnly by the trenches
Bed-Stuy's version of Nas, no mirage
Freeze y'all on speed dials, the murder squads
From where the arms echo like they hear the falsetto
While I'm in here with a Mimi, forreal'll hold a rod
That's like 3 lines in one couplet
So that's 312 like I'm callin' Cabrini
Or 23 on the Ouija, predicted the rings
And bein' fitted for rings is the only thing we in touch with
Shit I'm just tryna fill a trophy room
I'm just tryna fill a trophy room
Until it's no mothafuckin' room left
Shit I'm just tryna fill a trophy room

Everything just feels so perfect
I'm on top of the world
Top of the world
On top of the world

Closet full of kicks, the lot is full of whips
Sippin' nothin' but the finest bottles of the Myx
Tryna see it all 'fore I lie up in a ditch
No takin' it with me, fuck depositing my chips
They bite a nigga's dick
Cause when I get bored I take a model for a trip
But go dine up in the Ritz
Why would I hide it if I'm rich? I'ma show off
Forreal, why you think Statik signed me to the clique?
Fuck you, pay me, least I said it to 'em nicely
Hate me, I reflect 'em, sendin' miss precisely
We put them grands in Jacksons to the safe
Cause of Washingtons, we spendin' them with wifey
Remember that? Thought you seen the end of that
But we carry tradition, what would be the sense in that?
Take though from Ea$y, might as well send it back
Got goons everywhere, where you gon' spend it at?
I'm done with the scramblin', pack handlin'
Shook the Ds like big titty bitch dancin'
If I get my chance in, I'm advancin'
For the clique, kill shit like Charles and get my mans in
You heard? But I'm just tryna fill the trophy room
Said I'm just tryna fill the trophy room
'Til I can't step foot up in that bitch, forreal
I'm just tryna fill the trophy room

Everything just feels so perfect
I'm on top of the world
Top of the world
On top of the world

This is beautiful, ain't it?
All these feelings of nostalgia ain't new to you, ain't it?
I did this shit already, my niggas, viewing is tainted
But watch I still kill it all through whatever arrangements
Got a shot, long range, Danny Ainge 'em
I can't blame 'em, I transport the message like Jason Statham
Sleep is minimal, perspiration, elevated
Rippin' shit easy like perforation
Soon they gon' hold for investigation
More soul than your grandma cookin'
I wonder, got 'em hooked like I know what you did
Last summer, it's a bummer tryna step to me
Bein' black right now, stressin' me
I'll shoot the sheriff and the deputy
Smokin' mad weed so this shit do not get the best of me
Stirrin' up your mental currents, word, I got the recipe
Herbs, you just speakin', man, I'm more show and prove
No jewelry, stack my gold in my trophy room

On top of the world
It's funny how things change
When you came from nothin'
Now the world knows your name
It feels so good to be livin' this life
Cause we worked so hard for what we want, right

Everything just feels so perfect
I'm on top of the world
Top of the world
On top of the world

Bars! What's goin' on?
Drop the beat! I need a beat!
Fuck it! No beat, acapella
Lookin' at some Jordans, where's the fuckin' Pippins?
Age be comin' in the booth, you know I'm straight spittin'
With the soundproof linens, comin' through, gettin' it
Martha Stewart... shit am I rappin' like RiFF RAFF right now?
Laughter
Larry Bird shoes, goin' through ballin'