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trapstar (no toxic) - deep green lyrics

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[verse 1]
i’m just tryna tell them some truthful facts
sixteen, i was on the block moving crack
then i went jail for a little bit
came home, my fingers turned green
cause there’s just as much loot in that
amount of cling that i’ve used to wrap
swear down, coulda stretched to the moon and back
and n*ggas gonna know when it’s stunt time
cah i’m pulling suttin out better than a gucci hat
go ahead, you can use your strap
get grabbed, your right to silence, you ain’t using that
living proof, i would never make a tune for slags
this is block music, i stay true to that
we ain’t shooting mags but if you’re bad mind
i’ma grab mine, one press and that’ll move ’em back
they keep bugging for a mixtape
like my sh*t’s late, f*ck that i’ll make the strip wait
they said my sh*t’s great, well add to the views
youtube, deep green, get my sh*t played
and f*ck feds, i ain’t tryna see a pig’s face
they say i’m ic3 when i’m mixed race
what a p*sstake, ain’t slipping on the roads
routine kinda sloppy, get my sh*t changed
they would rather see me locked, no tough range
matter fact in a box with the wood grain
they don’t wanna see us gleam in gold
but i’m down for whatever if there’s p’s involved
and certain bruddas ain’t never done a hard day’s work
let alone spent a minute in the freezing cold
[hook]
i make real music, no pop sh*t
slang draws, not the sh*t you put your socks in
i’m on this, might see me in a hot whip
i’m a trapstar, no toxic
i make real music, no pop sh*t
slang draws, not the sh*t you put your socks in
i’m on this, might see me in a hot whip
i’m a trapstar, n*gga no toxic

[verse 2]
the flow’s toxic, i spit lyrics for them n*ggas
that are sitting with their digis and their boxes
scales struggling to work like they’re not fixed
cause the phone’s on fire, going bonkers
what you want kid?
sixteen of the blueberry, got the whole ends looking zombied
is this what you wanted?
no but i made suttin out of nuttin like this my only option
and for them bruddas who act, there’s no oscars
i say them n*ggas are gassed just like foster’s
i’m about this ting
they can’t hack it, they need counselling
now i’m vexed cah i’m out of cling
i’m waiting on the worker in the p*ssed up stairs
now they’re smelling like dettol cause the council’s been
in my hilfiger jeans, gotta stand, can’t sit
cause my pockets only fit a couple thousand in
money grows, money burns on my back, that’s a money rose
i hope thirty*six drops, no gambling
i’m talking bout a box with the ganja in
and nothing but love’s what i had for him
but he only showed hate so i snapped his chin
you got laid out properly
i saw your apology when i saw your fancy ring
you’re lucky i don’t grab the ting
i’m on the backstreets where the straps be
feds wanna catch me cah it’s tax free
and they know i’m doing great with the class b
i make real music, f*ck a whack beat
tell ’em bout the hardcore fiends and the crack t**th
real recognise real in this d*mn street
[hook]
i make real music, no pop sh*t
slang draws, not the sh*t you put your socks in
i’m on this, might see me in a hot whip
i’m a trapstar, no toxic
i make real music, no pop sh*t
slang draws, not the sh*t you put your socks in
i’m on this, might see me in a hot whip
i’m a trapstar, n*gga no toxic

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