Temp Trapper

All these trichomes it got me high boy
Leave his shirt red
Now he dead boy
Should've came correct
Cause you don't get second chances
I'm in the strip club
Spending money on private dances
Drop ya coordinates
I'm bout to slide boy
Can't nan nigga
Knock me off my high horse
3.5 of za
Roll it in a hemp wrap
& I'm here to stay
Nigga you just a temp trapper

Nigga you a fake rapper
Keep talking like a hoe
& I'ma bitch slap you
Thorough bread, organic, authentic
& if a nigga gone do it
Put his all in it
If you talking money then I'm all ears
Born in 96 it's been some hard years
How you say you solid
You ain't got no backbone
Use a flip phone for a trap phone
Only believe in myself
I gave you help when you needed my help
Cause nowadays
Feel like you don't appreciate it
Fuck love
Nowadays we segregated

All these trichomes it got me high boy
Leave his shirt red
Now he dead boy
Should've came correct
Cause you don't get second chances
I'm in the strip club
Spending money on private dances
Drop ya coordinates
I'm bout to slide boy
Can't nan nigga
Knock me off my high horse
3.5 of za
Roll it in a hemp wrap
& I'm here to stay
Nigga you just a temp trapper

I'm on the road I gotta go
Every month I change the number to my phone
Smell like Creed cologne
Get them packs & get em gone
Non believer
Underachiever
Hear no, see no, speak no evil
Do what I do to feed my people
You just a junkie facing needles
I don't put trust in many people
Can't let down certain people
When you was hungry didn't I feed you
But you forgot that I got needs too

All these trichomes it got me high boy
Leave his shirt red
Now he dead boy
Should've came correct
Cause you don't get second chances
I'm in the strip club
Spending money on private dances
Drop ya coordinates
I'm bout to slide boy
Can't nan nigga
Knock me off my high horse
3.5 of za
Roll it in a hemp wrap
& I'm here to stay
Nigga you just a temp trapper



Credits
Writer(s): Ray'quan Harding
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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