Do you know what? The trap still runnin', it's never turnin' off Different product, same hustle mentality The only difference is You pay taxes on it and feds can't kick off your door (We put the trap in entrepreneur)
We was flyin' up O with white We was buildin' lines, now it's clothing lines I sell tees and my darg sell T's as well But his ain't got no design (One—) One-eighty for the tracksuit Go somewhere else if it's overpriced New genеration don't know how to trap 'Cause they all getting high off thеir own supply (Trap—) Trap house in the woods where the bando's haunted It's supernatural, poltergeist Witnessed things that I wish that I didn't Like crackheads overdose then die Bad B's curvin' the kid back then when I weren't so lit I was broke them times Bitch, would you ride on the back of a bus? What 'bout on the front of a stolen bike? Soho pitchin' coke to the gay men, I'll serve anyone I got a open mind No complaints when it comes to the customer service I pick up the phone polite See man fall in love with the white, Billie Eilish 'cause they got ocean eyes Set up a shop, then it's open twenty-four hours we don't have a closin' time
(We put the—) We put the trap in the entrepreneur All of the time we spent in the field Woulda thought I got me a Ballon d'Or I'm stackin', not droppin' a bag in Dior (Went from a—) Went from a Toyota Yaris to Urus I still got the same work rate as before (Work rate as before) Two years that I ain't been home, seven-hundred And thirty days on tour
It was Nokia ringtones, pickin' up phones No private calls, now it's microphones I think that I got bipolar disorder The way I'm going through highs and lows (In—) Insta' full up with IG models and back in the day I would Skype these hoes My girl try hack my iCloud When I logged in, gotta hide my code Tryna get in through face recognition When I was asleep and my eyes were closed, huh If she ain't got nothin' to hide, might make her my wife Yeah, I might propose How many lies got told? Don't believe in the hype, it's false Bro died, he was still in his teens The chance is slim of me dyin' old I won't lie, it's me or them (Or them) Slime shit, I'ma wipe his nose Unbankin' packs and touches faeces I was OT, you would find it gross Now it's five-star hotels, Michelin-star dinin' I might rise a toast New generation would die for clout They'll do anything for a viral post
(We put the—) We put the trap in the entrepreneur All of the time we spent in the field Woulda thought I got me a Ballon d'Or I'm stackin', not droppin' a bag in Dior (Went from a—) Went from a Toyota Yaris to Urus I still got the same work rate as before (Work rate as before) Two years that I ain't been home Seven-hundred and thirty days on tour
Compositor: Caleb Bryant / Central Cee / Chris Rich