Trap sh*t lyrics

[Hook]
Trap sh*t that trap sh*t that trap sh*t all my n*ggas feel it when I talk trap sh*t
That trap sh*t that trap sh*t all my b*tches love it when I talk that trap sh*t
That trap sh*t that trap sh*t say my label hate it when I talk that trap sh*t
That trap sh*t that trap sh*t say the blogs hate it when I talk that trap sh*t

[Verse 1]
All my millions is honest, I don't owe you no lies
Rap wasn't working out for me, so dope is how I survived
Mama too much debt, Daddy somewhere hiding
I wasn't out hitting club singles, I was too busy providing
Couple views on YouTube, that's how I winded up signing
Had a Digi scale in that same booth, I was doing more than just rhyming
Started back when I was sixteen, penny nickel and diming
By eighteen I climbed in, and got ten pounds off consignment
Honestly I had ten of them when Cool & Dre came to sign me
Yeah b*tch I had work, and no plans on resigning
Now a n*gga wanna rob me, because of how well I'm grinding
Well I'm strapped up no matter what, and I dare a n*gga come try me

[Hook]

[Verse 2]
They think I'm some millionaire, but I'm nowhere near it
These n*ggas out here starving though, and they ain't een tryna hear it
He at home with his baby mama, and all five of their children
The rent due the pampers low, and she just missed her period
He flat broke and he sick of it, trying to find something to cure it
And here I go with this ballin' sh*t, spent forty thousand on jewelry
When your pocket low you get desperate, your judgement gets blurry
And every time you can't feed your kids, your eyes get a bit teary
Now he talkin' 'bout robbing me, and if I don't take the n*gga serious
When he run up on me and draw me down, I can't do sh*t but look silly
Then its going on WorldStar, 'bout how I let a n*gga get me
And if I am strapped and they catch me with it you say a n*gga just ignorant
[Hook]

[Verse 3]
When I signed that record deal, the f*ck I'mma do if they drop me
Buy a couple pounds of that broccoli, and turn my spot into a swap meet
They just care about hit records, they don't care if my child eat
Honestly I don't expect them to, b*tch I'm a man I got me
They don't understand where I come from, two words dope money
And hate when I talk that trap sh*t, two more words show money
And search for that hit single, but I don't give a f*ck 'bout that
I get sued 'fore they cut the check, I'm in that b*tch tryna bounce back
And taking care of my baby mama, baby juvenile court
Now I'm hopping on n*ggas tours, just so I can afford
I ain't keeping no secrets, so ain't sh*t to explore
So don't worry 'bout me homie, be glad these problems ain't yourn'

[Hook]