Trappin Aint Dead
Aye I said, nigga, walk up in the crib
I got them Ps by the door
Pussy, I don't need a desk I keep them Ps on the floor
Get it, wrap that shit, and go and that shit all a nigga know
I quit this rap and hit the trap, hit the map and flip a bo
And all this trappin' ain't dead it's just the niggas in it broke
I finna spend a light ten, get some rellos from the store
I'm bustin' down a half bitch do the math I'm with my cash woes
I was trappin' after class meet me at the flagpole
Tell that nigga I was born real
I got a candy-colored shawty thick like cornmeal
They sendin' disses pussy bitch, I'm unalarmed still
Said I was a jit just poppin' bars and flippin' cars
And bitch, I bet I'm doin' harm still
Aye, ask a bitch which one your car is
And then I took that bitch apart and sold the parts, real shit
Remember blickin' til the dark, left that nigga ass right in the park
been drillin' shit this is a art, for real
Ooh, bet not catch him on my street
And I ain't even gotta creep
I seen that nigga through the ring camera
Nigga, I got two freaky bitches tryna do me now they say they was twins
fuckin' ballerina dancers
Ha, put it on 'em leave 'em in a trance, tell her, whatever you do you better take your pants home
I'm bound to blow and shit give me a chance
I hit the trap, then hit the stu and I don't need no damn phone
Then I call this bitch she say she with her man
She finna get a Uber told her, hit me when your man gone
Ayy, said that couldn't be me I'd rather drive instead
Cause ain't no way a nigga pullin' up to take my ass home
Said I got that mad flow, make these niggas mad 4
I don't want collaborations nigga, why you mad, fo
Nigga send a diss and best believe I'm on your ass doe
Bitch I'm on your ass like green on grass jump in that grass hoe
Want that scat with candy paint I'm tammat paper tags, ho
Baby, if I call you new, bitch it's fuck the last, ho
Said I really try to keep it cool I'm never mad, bro
The shit these niggas doin
Make me wanna spaz, though
I get up on your ass and push you through the glass, ho
These 556s big ass mags make your ass choke
Big ass 556s hit your throat
She like the way I rap she say its magic how I spoke shit
KnowI tell her I appreciate it none of this shit ain't wrote
And yeah, I like you but I ain't gon' never meet your folks, bitch
(Aye, said that's on the gang wont meet your folks.
Big ass 556s make that nigga choke, bitch
Huh, none of this shit here ain't no joke and if you try to play
I'll leave you where you walk, bitch)
I got them Ps by the door
Pussy, I don't need a desk I keep them Ps on the floor
Get it, wrap that shit, and go and that shit all a nigga know
I quit this rap and hit the trap, hit the map and flip a bo
And all this trappin' ain't dead it's just the niggas in it broke
I finna spend a light ten, get some rellos from the store
I'm bustin' down a half bitch do the math I'm with my cash woes
I was trappin' after class meet me at the flagpole
Tell that nigga I was born real
I got a candy-colored shawty thick like cornmeal
They sendin' disses pussy bitch, I'm unalarmed still
Said I was a jit just poppin' bars and flippin' cars
And bitch, I bet I'm doin' harm still
Aye, ask a bitch which one your car is
And then I took that bitch apart and sold the parts, real shit
Remember blickin' til the dark, left that nigga ass right in the park
been drillin' shit this is a art, for real
Ooh, bet not catch him on my street
And I ain't even gotta creep
I seen that nigga through the ring camera
Nigga, I got two freaky bitches tryna do me now they say they was twins
fuckin' ballerina dancers
Ha, put it on 'em leave 'em in a trance, tell her, whatever you do you better take your pants home
I'm bound to blow and shit give me a chance
I hit the trap, then hit the stu and I don't need no damn phone
Then I call this bitch she say she with her man
She finna get a Uber told her, hit me when your man gone
Ayy, said that couldn't be me I'd rather drive instead
Cause ain't no way a nigga pullin' up to take my ass home
Said I got that mad flow, make these niggas mad 4
I don't want collaborations nigga, why you mad, fo
Nigga send a diss and best believe I'm on your ass doe
Bitch I'm on your ass like green on grass jump in that grass hoe
Want that scat with candy paint I'm tammat paper tags, ho
Baby, if I call you new, bitch it's fuck the last, ho
Said I really try to keep it cool I'm never mad, bro
The shit these niggas doin
Make me wanna spaz, though
I get up on your ass and push you through the glass, ho
These 556s big ass mags make your ass choke
Big ass 556s hit your throat
She like the way I rap she say its magic how I spoke shit
KnowI tell her I appreciate it none of this shit ain't wrote
And yeah, I like you but I ain't gon' never meet your folks, bitch
(Aye, said that's on the gang wont meet your folks.
Big ass 556s make that nigga choke, bitch
Huh, none of this shit here ain't no joke and if you try to play
I'll leave you where you walk, bitch)
Credits
Writer(s): Kae Kasino
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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