Death of Trap
Let me
Apologize, in advance
If I get a little nasty
Out here on this first one
And I'm sorry in advance
So parents, cover your kids ears
Cause here on Verse 1, I might curse some
I could mumble some irrelevant
Unintelligible, unintelligent
Shit, for the hell of it
Just to sell a hit
With these trappers, mumble rappers, happily
I will never fit
In
But you can tell a bitch
I won't ever quit
Cuz I could just, give you the, triplets
I know that's all that you want
I might just trap out my mamas house
Buy my girl, all the designer bags, so she could flaunt
If I wanna make a quick buck
You prolly gon' guess
What Imma talk about, next
A song about sex
Bottles on deck, models on necks
Commas on checks, diamonds on wrists
Man I'm prolly gon flex
But, we sippin' no sizzurp, we sippin' Folgers
I'm sure I'll have all my critics calling me vulture
Nitpicking one line from a whole fucking verse cause
I won't glorify drugs, as a part of the culture
Maybe my shit ain't got no appeal to playback
Sorry, I'm not sorry
I don't drive a Maybach
Sorry I ain't sorry
I ain't spitting triplet flows
Flicking wrists and poppin' pillies
I ain't got my pistol pulled
Sorry I ain't sorry
Sorry to a single soul
If I only fuck with one chick
I ain't fucking bitches, hoes
I won't get a single sold
I don't walk on tippie toes
Asscheeks, I ain't kissin' those
Under fucking mistletoes
Keep on, plugging, pharma, on the, microphone
I can't come up wit my own, so let's just fucking bite the flows
We up in it, time to shut it down
We up in it, time to shut it down
We up in it, time to shut it down
We up in it, time to shut it down
Wolfie constantly gotta stop me from getting outta hand
And spitting some shit that isn't fitting in with the brand
Or spitting some shit that'll get us blackballed or banned
And burning bridges down 'fore we even made it to land
But fuck it
Sorry Wolfie
I can't fight it
My tongue's getting too damn strong
I can't bite it
I might just
Blurt out something outrageous
The fact is, I'll prolly explode if I don't say this
Bloggers just wanna monetize
Artists see hope, bloggers see dollar signs
Bloggers care about what's poppin' up on Spotify
You get the feature if you poppin' guy, it happens all the time
Cause now they get to turn page visits to paid visits
Same shit as, the radio, it's the same business
Shame isn't it? Doing this shit for ages n'
Game's just this damn vicious
Cycle, it's the same difference
It's getting saturated, it's getting crowded
So if I got a positive message, I ain't allowed in
So miss me with that bullshit, I ain't about it
They were doubtin', way before Rumble did a thousand
What they gon say, when we do a milly now
I might hack your fucking blog, and burn your label's building down
I'm playing, I'm playing
I'm being silly now
Kyle's givin' dirty looks
Think he's gon kill me now
But don't cut me off yet, homie
Y'all know, its war now
We used to knock at your door
Now we kicking your door down
We used to ask you to listen
Now I'm grabbing your fucking ear
And screaming into it loud as I can
So you can fucking hear
But I ain't wishing, I'm busting my fucking ass for it
I ain't bitching, I asked for it
On a crash course
I ain't tripping, no passport
You don't wanna listen, just fast forward
Sorry I'm not sorry
We up in it, time to shut it down
We up in it, time to shut it down
We up in it, time to shut it down
We up in it, time to shut it down
Apologize, in advance
If I get a little nasty
Out here on this first one
And I'm sorry in advance
So parents, cover your kids ears
Cause here on Verse 1, I might curse some
I could mumble some irrelevant
Unintelligible, unintelligent
Shit, for the hell of it
Just to sell a hit
With these trappers, mumble rappers, happily
I will never fit
In
But you can tell a bitch
I won't ever quit
Cuz I could just, give you the, triplets
I know that's all that you want
I might just trap out my mamas house
Buy my girl, all the designer bags, so she could flaunt
If I wanna make a quick buck
You prolly gon' guess
What Imma talk about, next
A song about sex
Bottles on deck, models on necks
Commas on checks, diamonds on wrists
Man I'm prolly gon flex
But, we sippin' no sizzurp, we sippin' Folgers
I'm sure I'll have all my critics calling me vulture
Nitpicking one line from a whole fucking verse cause
I won't glorify drugs, as a part of the culture
Maybe my shit ain't got no appeal to playback
Sorry, I'm not sorry
I don't drive a Maybach
Sorry I ain't sorry
I ain't spitting triplet flows
Flicking wrists and poppin' pillies
I ain't got my pistol pulled
Sorry I ain't sorry
Sorry to a single soul
If I only fuck with one chick
I ain't fucking bitches, hoes
I won't get a single sold
I don't walk on tippie toes
Asscheeks, I ain't kissin' those
Under fucking mistletoes
Keep on, plugging, pharma, on the, microphone
I can't come up wit my own, so let's just fucking bite the flows
We up in it, time to shut it down
We up in it, time to shut it down
We up in it, time to shut it down
We up in it, time to shut it down
Wolfie constantly gotta stop me from getting outta hand
And spitting some shit that isn't fitting in with the brand
Or spitting some shit that'll get us blackballed or banned
And burning bridges down 'fore we even made it to land
But fuck it
Sorry Wolfie
I can't fight it
My tongue's getting too damn strong
I can't bite it
I might just
Blurt out something outrageous
The fact is, I'll prolly explode if I don't say this
Bloggers just wanna monetize
Artists see hope, bloggers see dollar signs
Bloggers care about what's poppin' up on Spotify
You get the feature if you poppin' guy, it happens all the time
Cause now they get to turn page visits to paid visits
Same shit as, the radio, it's the same business
Shame isn't it? Doing this shit for ages n'
Game's just this damn vicious
Cycle, it's the same difference
It's getting saturated, it's getting crowded
So if I got a positive message, I ain't allowed in
So miss me with that bullshit, I ain't about it
They were doubtin', way before Rumble did a thousand
What they gon say, when we do a milly now
I might hack your fucking blog, and burn your label's building down
I'm playing, I'm playing
I'm being silly now
Kyle's givin' dirty looks
Think he's gon kill me now
But don't cut me off yet, homie
Y'all know, its war now
We used to knock at your door
Now we kicking your door down
We used to ask you to listen
Now I'm grabbing your fucking ear
And screaming into it loud as I can
So you can fucking hear
But I ain't wishing, I'm busting my fucking ass for it
I ain't bitching, I asked for it
On a crash course
I ain't tripping, no passport
You don't wanna listen, just fast forward
Sorry I'm not sorry
We up in it, time to shut it down
We up in it, time to shut it down
We up in it, time to shut it down
We up in it, time to shut it down
Credits
Writer(s): Nico Charles Araco, Kyle B Wolf
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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