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• Artiste: Drego & Beno
• Titre: Trap Back
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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