Trap God (feat. Gucci Mane)

Honorable C.N.O.T.E.
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Trap God, started this trap shit, you need to thank me (yup)
Lil' knucklehead, Sun Valley youngster, mama tried to spank me (mama)
My youngster shot somebody up, guess they made him angry
Two dead men right by the garbage, guess we done left 'em stankin' (yeah)

Niggas get some liquid courage when they get to drinkin' (drinkin')
His brains scattered on the dashboard, now we see what he thinkin' (yeah)
Must thought I was a hoe or somethin', that's what he get for thinkin' (hoe)
Better off tryna rob a bank or somethin', I call that wishful thinkin' (well, damn)

Please don't take another step, my G's gon' get to blankin' (my G's)
DOA, his mama heard the news and went to faintin' (damn)
Breaking news, we put him on the news, we made him famous (famous)
Please proceed with caution, Gucci Mane them armed and dangerous (and dangerous)

I hang out with felons, we don't never talk to strangers (no)
It's Big 1017 and I keep one in the chamber (1017)
Lot of niggas angry that my cash went up a level (a level)
Unbury money every day, I need another shovel (it's dirty)

It's an angel on my shoulder and a devil on the other one (a demon)
Turn wives into widows and my gun can kill an elephant (well, damn)
I feel like a president, dude suck dick like Joe Biden's son (Joe Biden)
Don't play me, play with your kids, don't have one, go and have you one, uh (hah)

I'm just havin' fun, my old flow was from Michigan
My life a lavish one, I touch down cold like Michigan
Brush you off, switch the gun, my jits went on a blickathon (ayy)
We havin' navy guns, my trap look like the Pentagon (wop)

Trap look like a Dixie Queen, can't talk if you ain't give 15
I'm so icy, 1017, I'm fresh just like some Listerine
This chain right here a 50 piece, the pendant too, this 50 each
These niggas can't even sit with me, these bitches wanna get with me

Exotic 'bow a four-for-four, you get 13, you get three more (yeah)
You play with us, we up the score, I should've been on Traphouse 4
Bitch, I'm the shit just like commode, look at this drip all on my clothes
Look at this shit stick to the bowl, I'm 'bout to break my wrist for sure, hey

Trap look like it's jumpin', I just ran up on a junkie (I did)
I-I can't serve no onions, you ain't pull up with no money
This shake cost 15 hundred, I finessed for 1320
They say, "Bigger the wrist, bigger the lick, go get some money", hey (BigWalkDog)

Honorable C.N.O.T.E.



Credits
Writer(s): Radric Delantic Davis, Carlton D. Mays Jr., Dajour Jamal Walker
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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