TRAPMAN lyrics

[Intro: Greasy P]
Hey, aye
Aye, aye, aye

[Verse 1: Greasy P]
I pull up, flexing on a motherf*cker (yuh)
Wishing I could dip up on another sucker (yuh)
Lean up in a pint because I'm sipping thirsty
Shout out to my mama, she the queen who birthed me
First we'll see who throw down if you cross me
Chain with a T on my chest, I'm from Tennessee
Chopper rain a hunnid faster than you could say "sorry"
White boy, I'm the plug, mane, so call me "El Charlie"
Big boy still up in the shop
I flip a brick for Mr. Juan, call that Jeweler Shop
I got side b*tches because all I want is top
They say I'm too competitive but, boy, I'll never stop
Begging me for mercy, begging me for mercy
I pull up in that Mercy and then they all start to curse me
It's dangerous around here when it's dark out
But you'll learn real quick the trapping is a lifestyle and an art, bruh
Now I made it, I can ball the way that I do, man and that's the truth
Anybody wanna step up with that sh*t, then come into the booth
My brother called my phone, he told me he need connect
Told "maybe quick," because I got the TEC
Models in my house, man, I been out of country
Price up on my head because they money hunting
Blue bands bouncing, big cash pouncing
Hard money counting, champagne drank fountain
All of y'all gon' change up, but the times gon' get tough
But it's okay, because check this, I don't really give a f*ck
Uncle Buck with that Ruger, man, I'll shoot 13 for a luck
I'm 23 with a pinky ring, and I'll b*tch slap you up
Size up to this sh*t in the promise that you will not get lucky
On-set members keep texting me, telling me to come f*ck 'em
[Hook: Greasy P]
'Cause the good die young, the rich die broke
The shooters pull up quick with a chopper and a scope
I pray you are not outside when it is dark out
Or else you catch the wrath, of a trapman
Of a trap man, of a trapman
Be careful, catch the rounds of a trapman
Of a trap man, of a trapman
Yo' family catch a round of a trapman

[Verse 2: PiMPYZ]
Of a trapman, where yo' pack, man?
Yeah, that n*gga PiMPYZ, come get sacked, man
Run it back, man, a hunnid times
Yeah, she f*ck me, for my rhymes
Now it's time, get on your grind
Yeah I kiss her, f*ck her down to her spine
n*gga rewind, a hundred rounds
Got them pounds, woah, woah, Daytona sound, yeah
I'm in the booth, I'm smoking boof
I'm speakin' truth, n*gga, f*ck rules
n*gga, I do it, no Nike check
b*tch, I do it, I just flex

[Verse 3: Tay-K]
In the cafeteria, I'm knockin' down your tray
n*ggas try to eat off us, but this ain't no buffet (n*gga)
I'm on beltway, and I'm eating fish fillet, aye (n*gga)
Jugging and finessing at a very young age (jugging and finessing)
Try to check me, close that mouth, on yo' face (shut up, n*gga)
22 shots, n*gga, all at yo' toupee, aye (brrata-ta-ta-tah)
Make him spin with that chopper, that's ballet (yuh)
You know I'ma win when it come to running game
Fresh off a stain, now yo' b*tch want my di*k (b*tch want my f*cking di*k)
Yo' b*tch wanna claim, yeah, she smoking all my zips (haha, yeah)
[Hook: Greasy P]
'Cause the good die young, the rich die broke
The shooters pull up quick with a chopper and a scope
I pray you are not outside when it is dark out
Or else you catch the wrath, of a trapman
Of a trap man, of a trapman
Be careful, catch the rounds of a trapman
Of a trap man, of a trapman
Yo' family catch a round of a trapman