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Trap Niggas

Future


Times ain't hard but a nigga still gettin' it
Young rich niggas, in this motherfucker
When you wake up before you brush your teeth
You grab your strap, nigga
Only time you get down on your knees
Shooting craps, nigga
Fuck what you heard, God blessin' all the trap niggas
God blessin' all the trap niggas

Weighed 1008 grams on the spot
I got a lower case t across my chest
Your crack house doin' numbers then you blessed
You move your momma to a crib from the 'jects
It's so much alcohol and kush on my breath
We prayin' five times a day to catch a plug
A few beef pies stashed in the trunk
Shoot dice all day and sell dust
You loaded up, they talkin' shit, you gone bust
Told yourself a million times, you don't give a fuck
Sold over a million dimes, hangin' in the cut
Sold over a million dimes, I don't give a fuck
What?

I thought ia-la was gone wake up with that glock, okay though
Stash the dope inside a winnebago in decatur
He got your work, he posted up in the hood bodago
Lil' woadie loading up that yopper before he brush his teeth
Gotta roll a backwood up while he count the cheese
We on the turf, getting active on the backstreet
I'm drinkin' actavis, the only thing that relax me

I'm on drugs, every single day I pop a seal
We talk that lingo 'round here, we try to work a deal
You pull up round here, they serve you here to dixie hill
You hit on [?] trap house
Gotta cock it back, gotta hit it shit without
You loaded up, they talkin' shit, you gone bust
Told yourself a million times, you don't give a fuck
Sold over a million dimes, hangin' in the cut
Sold over a million dimes, I don't give a fuck
What?

Compositores: Nayvadius Demun Wilburn (Nayvadius Wilburn), Joshua Howard Luellen
ECAD: Obra #16781958

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