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trappin' like a fool - fat trel lyrics

[intro:]
trappin like a fool, me and that fat fool
kept that f-ckin tool, didn’t go to school
shawty lookin at me
dope boy, got some blow? got some rock?
get the f-ck out my face!
and keep them god d-mn babies out the street
i think he don’t like me and the way my clique thuggin
i really don’t give a sh-t
bout to bust it out the wrapper, sell it to a trapper
i really don’t give a sh-t
i was trappin like a b-tch

[verse 1:]
well i come from the way where the b-tches be hoes, and the mom ain’t home and the daddy went away
brother locked up, little brother bought a k
baby girl show her -ss crack ’round the way
all about the money, make it look like nothing
had the b-tches mouth runnin, “he ain’t stuntin anyway”
meanwhile, i was in the back where i lay, me and sl-tty p blowin loud all day
in my own d-mn lane, f-ck yo chain
b-tches that will murder for the love of cocaine
let her poke her -ss out, then you touch that thang
like, “what’s yo name?” bust yo brain
leave a n-gga dead, that’s a god d-mn shame
you can ask deuce how the f-ck n-ggas do
southside n-ggas love to roll like juice
deuce deuce in the 380 and the nike boots
trappin like a b-tch, till ya man start talkin
then your man start hatin, now he actin like a b-tch
n-gga disrespectin, then ya man don’t check ’em
then we reachin for the weapons, and they clappin like a b-tch
stackin in a drought, n-gga we in dc
no work in the city, then we goin down south
you see your b-tch gone ride with me
gps don’t know no routes
when they let them go-go’s out
you should leave immediately and pretend every light you see is green
if you see the heat then it’s kiss ya sweet dreams
riding in the box, probably got 2 glocks
with ya b-tch on my jock, and i spark big green
with my seat way back, and my neck on gleam
if my wrist go pop, i’mma spark that thing

[hook:]
bust it out the wrapper, sell it to a trapper
i really don’t give a sh-t
i was trappin like a b-tch
i was trappin like a b-tch
i tote a lot of bricks
i hit a lot of l!cks
i really don’t give a sh-t

[verse 2:]
first the sun rolls up, then the gun rolls up
then the choppas split ’em open, cut ’em like a cold cut
then the moon went down, then the sun came up
ain’t no body pick ’em up, so police showed up
knockin on the door, n-gga we don’t know sh-t
as-salamu alayk-m, we don’t f-ck with that pig
scooby got k!lled, we ain’t heard sh-t since
please go where ever, but get the f-ck from ’round here
ecstasy and liquor we don’t go around beer
old cups and roll-ups got me slowed up
b-tch named candi will suck ya hole up
and you don’t know a hood b-tch if you don’t know her
northeast sh-t, what the f-ck n-ggas mean
all about the stuntin, and i’m k!llin every scene
b-tches wanna f-ck cause he eyes all green
and his sling be the best, and his walk all mean
talk all crazy, spark all hazey
fool wanna trip, said he rappin but paid me
jack my b-tch, we gon’ run in his sh-t
n-gga you can get a d-ck, that’s a 30-round clip
f-ck with larry johnson, but we don’t play games
no secrets, n-gga we don’t say names
i’m like hov, listenin to hov
in the h-o-v, n-gga we don’t switch lanes
black cobain, is that yo dame?
ain’t tryna trick, but i know i got change
i could f-ck her with my daddy, i could f-ck her in the caddy
i could make her pull it over and i could f-ck her in the rain
all i’m tryna say is what the f-ck you n-ggas sayin?
got my money with me, why the f-ck you n-ggas playin?
rollin off the bland, coolin with my man
no days off, that’s the mother f-ckin plan

- fat trel lyrics

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