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trap jumpin - q da fool lyrics

yea i heard the rumors
word around town they said “q he ain’t a shooter”
don’t make me walk down with the ruger
i got respect with the tec this shit produced by lex luger
how u gon disrespect the gangster
i might just shoot at your uber
apply pressure to da pack
n-gg- i ain’t cooking noodles
hang wit all pitbulls these n-gg-s hang out wit poodles
heard he flexin heard he stuntin so you know i gotta move em
da folks say hol on the block i had to get it by myself
a lot a gas a lot of molly i keep guns pace by my belt
if a n-gg- think he cool bet this bullet make him melt
close mouths don’t get fed told your b-tch to help herself
n-gg-s outchea snitching on god i won’t say nothing
trap house jumping junkies keep on running
i done seen n-gg-s switch up over a woman
swerve em it ain’t nothing the loyalty make it something
shooters hopping out with the 40 on they hip
everybody around me serving zips and maybe bricks
i don’t you so don’t f-cking around wit me
who goin shoot first it might be a murder scene
who gon shoot first i let these tec squirt
ima expert at letting guns work
i gotta lotta money from my scale and my stove
if he ain’t go to jail den da n-gg- prolly told
i done kick a couple n-gg-s dope
but i won’t tell a soul
have these n-gg-s talking ganster all these n-gg-s ho’s
talking being (??) and selling drugs
i even robbed some stoves
n-gg-s think im lying n-gg- just go ask my folks
put his lil -ss out his misery
run down with heavy artillery
trappin out largo wit pbg
all dese keys ain’t not symphony
i punish the pussy she fearing me
i hope out the jeep buss some 223’s
im f-cking they hoes so they envy me
the clippers real long like a centipede
pop me a bottle more energy
pouring the more my remedy
berretta 45 that’s my mini me
bullet pull up in a finite
(???) be cooking got recipes
heaven or h-ll your destiny
wildin out ain’t no checkin me
ridin round with that check on me
pull up on blocks like aye
they know i got that cake
b-tches on me cus they know i got that money
straight drop molly turn you to a mummy
came along way from trae 5’s now i got onions
now i got onions my trap be bunkin
my trap be ju-ju-ju-ju-jumpin my shit be jumpin
my phone be jumpin
b-tches on my line yea they straight gunkin
but i ont love em i just f-ck em
f-ck em

i just f-ckem
i just f-ck em? after we f-ck em what we do bro?
n-gg- yea we duck em

i be wit lions you be with rats
lil d gon get his -ss
q da fool really play with bats
you know the gang came to pop some tags
send my young n-gg-s on his -ss
we get the drugs and the mask
if i go broke i put on the mask
trust me i won’t spear my last

gang gang gangg gang gang

- q da fool lyrics

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