Bottom of the Trap (feat. Icewear Vezzo & EST Gee)

Man, this rat-ass nigga got whiskers told her, no pictures, nah, I won't kiss her
Stopped takin' Percs, I'm a real bad itcher she is a shooter like Curry on the Sixers
I got the snow and I'm makin' it blizzard fuck your lil' stove, we came up on blenders
Fuck these hoes, these niggas be tender I put a sign on the trap, say, "Enter"
I put a switch on the glick I keep a broom like a witch
Pulled up on camp, ain't in tents fuck every nigga against
I got a thousand, ain't tens I'm makin' thousand attempts
Donkey'll knock off your limbs I lifted weight, it ain't gyms
I sold an eighthy in Kim's I rode out daily to Slim
I got these bricks, I'm makin' it flood look at my wrist, I came from the mud fresh every day like I came from the club
I want him whacked, I'm spendin' a dub sell dope all day, crazy, I was
Got a lil' wiser, now I got bud dick on the nina, I made it a stud
She wanna fuck, right hand on the tub bust on her butt, I took off the rug
Fuck all this rap shit, bitch, I'm a plug I'm a real bird man, he want a lug
Stepped on whole one, that's what it was I caught a cold one, that's just because
Need one wholesome shorty, some love fucked on the girl, now she making me grub
I'm a real big dog, he just a cub fuck your cuz, we'll blow in the club
I ain't doing no song that's more than a dub all blue slip, nigga, know that we cuz
Yeah, gang them Crip, lil' bro and them Blood popped two Percs while I poured the mud
I walk shit down like you holding a grudge left wrist dance, it's holding my cut
Niggas knowin' you cap and you told to the judge
Ice too freezy, take dog chain, he easy ar slap like Meechy's, lil' big blicky
Niggas like Ice, you tweaking Rock Diors, not Yeezys
Whole neck rocky ho give me head, that's sloppy
Icy as fuck, play hocke pint full of molly, never direct for no opps
We'll light shit up like Takis never been tight, no back and forth
We caught two bodies back and forth Forgis beatin', we crashed the Porsche
Olympics gang how I clap that torch Wocky, Quagy, my naps too short
I was runnin' up pints back with Act' and Mort's
Load up that yop, them 7.62s
Rack to back like I'm stackin' quarters rich, of course
I was getting crack cocaine on the block, that dope up north
Dec was a rat, he showed 'em the trap
If he knew the exacts, would've showed 'em the fork
I spit the facts, chop with the gadget attached
Tryna put on a show for your corpse
I had to tax, damn, he was always a liar
But told 'em the truth in the courts
Ain't no way I'll let 'em get away when we go broad day
Y'all be playing 'round with small change, really in my way
Two different bricks
I gave three separate hits, now it's LeBron James, six now
How'd I know? I told him rock his coat to hide his pole
Not 'cause it's in style, duck off, I come in town
Know how I get down, he tried to run, ain't pull his blick out
Knocked his ribs out, you know it's levels
Niggas playing 'round with fire 'til they run into the devil
'Cause you talk loud and aggressive, that do not make you a stepper
Wanna walk down, be careful, if you trip, you going to heaven
All them times that I remember
Them fumes got me high from scraping up them extras
If it's raw food, you can feel it in the texture 'fore you smell it



Credits
Writer(s): Joseph Barnett, Timothy Gates
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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