trap inda trees - ssg splurge lyrics
its goop
yea, i knew that hoe was comin’ like that
(verse 1)
i ain’t with that foo sh*t so i dont care about no rap
whole time i been gettin’ paid, no cap
step on they ass, no kappa, no cap
n*gga f*ck a diss song; no rap, we rap em
let my potna’ serve em why you ran off and get tackled
i ain’t doin’ sh*t but tryna put em on a channel
i ain’t doin’ sh*t but puttin’ broads in a phantom
move the trap out of state, servin’ bars in atlanta
and no we don’t care bout yo f*ckin’ bandana
i can drop a bag and get you hit by a random
we do n*ggas bad and ain’t sh*t put on camera
i can whip it on the stove like its (?)
totin’ glizzy with a d*ck, tryna hit, that’s a dirty stick
she was askin’ for some d*ck i’m tryna give the hoe some percocet
shoota’s on my team, i dropped em off, he ain’t workin’ yet
bought that hoe some wendy’s, what the f*ck is a birkin bag?
(verse 2)
my lil bro’ll walk you down in some cortez’s
did some shhh, then pulled up where the church at
whippin’ eagle’s, turn this b*tch into a birds nest
yo lil jewelry ain’t even my merch bag
ok, back to that gangsta sh*t; what yall wanna do?
they come thru tryna hit then we spinnin’ sum too
but i doubt they’ll spin cause they know what we do
know this draco a wolf, we tryna get a n*gga chewed
turned the telly to a strip club, bad b*tches nude
i want the rich, get out the hood hoes, the sad b*tches too
i don’t care about sh*t but my daughter and my shoes
know we beat n*ggas blue, leave em drunk like he booze
lemme ask; have you ever did a hit at a crew?
make them n*ggas take off when that crown vic move
make them n*ggas try to skip out of town when we shoot
he gone die and get p*ssed, so be glad i been cool
(verse 3)
i get drugs everywhere, n*ggas know i attract it
finna leave miami, hit the city, get active
yea i cut my dreads off, this sh*t deeper then rappin’
yea i come by myself, i don’t need a assassin
couple n*ggas playin’ p*ssy, some sh*t i can’t believe
b*tch askin’ where i’m at, b*tch i’m recording with t
and we stalkin’ at yo crib, b*tch you better not leave
cause you’ll end up swimmin’, you playin’ sh*t like bleach
(outro)
this a stolo, no screech
park the hotbox around the corner then creep
opp’s in that store, i’m tryna see what i can eat
762’s or these 223’s
stick with the string, this a arp
no time to play, i’ma shoot what i see
no tuckin’ chains, you won’t take em off me
all of these birds i could trap inda trees
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