Trap Back Testo

Haha
Ayy, huh
They wanted me to get in that one bag, though
Ooh

I'ma put you on game
You been thinkin' 'bout them blues, them inbox on your brain
Heard you was lookin' for me, had them hitters give you a fade
I'm in the back of the back of the trap servin' them J's
Oh, you Chris Brown and Tyga, you addicted to fame
I'm worried 'bout gettin' paid, yeah, gettin' the cake
I'm worried how he whip the water, tell him don't leave the K
My lil' nigga shoot the bag, he came from minimum wage

My young dawg off a Perc', nigga itchin' and waitin'
I can't take you over there because them bricks in the basement
Say the wrong shit to me, I leave your shit on the pavement
Ayy, you still with that nigga, and he writin' them statements

Ayy, lil' blood from down the street? He be catchin' them bodies
He gon' pull up in a hottie, hit the lights on Armani
He got this gutter bitch with him, he be Clyde-ing with Bonnie
He got the oven mitt with him, can't leave no prints when he slidin'

That shit hurt for the mollies
But it's all gon' be worth it when you makin' that profit
I could tell you 'bout this one ho, how I met her in Onyx
And my niggas still in the trenches, they trappin' and wildin'
I be stylin', profilin', my bitch, she look like a model And I can sell more quarter pounders than Mickey McDonalds

He tryna cheat me out my lean, pourin' in baby bottles
I know exactly how to play it, I brought the medicine bottle
She know exactly how to play it, she gon' suck it and swallow
Oh, you ain't gon' suck it and swallow? Bitch, shut up and gargle
My nigga trippin' in the club, he done punched up some bottles
We caught the opps leaving the club, we 'bout to fill 'em with hollows
So many rounds, we ready to sing, nigga, like American Idol
Creep 'round the corner with them beams, them niggas screamin' and hollerin'
My lil' nigga be doin' them scams, he know way more than I do

And you can pull up and get served, man, this shit like a drive-thru
My niggas backin' Piru, shots hotter than Thai food
I can't show you how I move but I can show you how I move
You end up all on Fox 2, man, hit that with a times two
All that shoot 'em up, bang bang shit, nigga, that's not you

It's a silencer on this stick, this bitch sayin' hachoo
Them bullets flyin' by your head, leave your shit like Caillou
You think you coaching basketball, you gon' play a nigga
You should know better than to play with the boy money, he gon' lay a nigga
He gon' catch you slippin' and line your ass up, boy, like them hair clippers
You don't know the nigga, he'll do your ass broad day, he don't know nan' nigga