Trap House lyrics

by

Lil Wayne


[Verse]
Ooh! Yeah
Lil Tunechi got it jumpin' like Jordan
These pus*y ass n*ggas can't guard me
These rookie ass n*ggas still crawlin'
These lookin' ass n*ggas eyeballin'
These hookin' ass b*tches eyeballin'
But I got a bad b*tch at home cooking dinner
Hi honey, I'm home, I'm starvin'
These crooked ass cops still winnin'
Black man family still mournin'
Black President ain't do nothin'
We need a real n*gga up in that office
Got the White House jumpin' like Jordan
Got the crack house jumpin' like Jordan
I want my new house bigger than Jordan's
With a backyard bigger than a forest
Like "ooh" bedroom jumpin' like Jordan
Hoes at the door and they arguin'
This di*k a superstar, they want stardom
My life like Bailey and Barnum's
These b*tches ain't got no manners
These n*ggas ain't got no standards
My b*tch ain't got no love handles
Boy, I'm clippin' that toe on that camel
I got b*tches that'll kill for me – Charles Manson
Suck this thuggish ruggish bone, swallow that bone marrow
Ooh, chopper sittin' on my lap like the mall Santa
n*gga, shoot you all in your gall bladder
Your pallbearers need pallbearers
I'm mixing weed like gumbo
I knock your head off – Fumble
Homeboys be cutthroat
That sh*t got me with a lump throat
But Tunechi bigger than Elvis Presley
Young Money was my best investment
Going harder than my predecessor
I don't break records, I sets the records
Lil Tunechi coming back like Kobe
n*ggas stab me in the back, I owe 'em
Got a house in the hills
Now a n*gga gotta deal
With mountain lions and coyotes
Semi, I keep that semi
And friendly, I can't be friendly
Freckles, them bullet holes look like freckles
You look like Wendy's
House in the hills jumpin' like Jordan
I can't swim but I'm throwing pool parties
I got a b*tch over there, and a b*tch over there
A young n*gga starting to feel cornered
My LA house jumpin' like Jordan
My Miami house jumpin' like Jordan
Can't forget about my house in New Orleans
So sorry for the wait, I'm sorry
I want my new b*tch titties enormous
With a backyard and a pretty garden
With a pus*y more pink than a orchid
Young n*gga gonna treat it like a florist
I got my side b*tch feeling important
I got my main b*tch feeling immortal
I got my ex b*tch feeling insulted
Cause wifey get money like Kimora
I got a fine b*tch feeling exhausted
Cause I'mma put this di*k on her 'til tomorrow
I'mma pull up on a b*tch in a Gallardo
Then I'mma take the top off like a barber
I go down and kiss her Pearl Harbor
She's so down with this New World Order
f*ck the sh*t out her in a sauna
Sweat her hair out, she look like Al Sharpton
Got a goon named Fernando
At the front door your condo
Knock-knock, who's there?
He don't care, he's psycho
Bad b*tch with a nice throat
She ice cold and she like hoes
Ooh, she just my type
These other hoes just typos
Young n*gga coming back like Jordan
So sorry for the wait, I'm sorry
Yeah, a n*gga had to go back to the stash
But a n*gga 'stache like James Harden
Young n*gga drank lean like water
Young n*gga smoke weed like Marley
Young n*gga on the Moon like Warren
Young n*gga on this sh*t like Charmin
Ooh, my b*tch got a rack, Dolly Parton
f*ck her all night long to some Marvin
Fall asleep in the pus*y, good lordy
Woke up in a new Bugatti, good mornin'
Young n*gga got guns, good luck
Nina Ross say "Me so horny"
Lil Tunechi, at the top it's so lonely
Got fat pockets, never bony
I'm with a model b*tch, she so bony
I done shook sh*t up, it's so foamy
I just cooked this up, it's still hot
You could still smell the kitchen on me
n*gga I'll have your homies
Singing "Damn I miss my homie"
I got a mountain of weed
I got a mountain of cash
I got mountains like Wyoming
I got a bad b*tch and she foreign
She always mad with me, I'm sorry
She say "Damn why you can’t call me?"
"Cause they be taxin' for that roaming"
She a tan b*tch, she orange
I can’t stand a snitchin' informant
n*ggas cooked crack on a Foreman
While y'all boys was still sparrin', uhh
This that Sorry For The Wait 2
Tell the dead homies you pray to
You on your way too
That the truth is hard to swallow
You got fake juice
Even Slick Rick the ruler know I break rules, ooh
Got the gas out shootin' like Jordan
I'll put your homeboy face on a T-shirt
And put your own face on a milk carton
Busy, I’ve been so busy
Ain’t even got time for quickies
That’s why my b*tch been so b*tchy
I’m out here tryin' to get me
I’m coming back out jumpin' like Jordan
I’m so sorry for the wait, I’m tardy
I wrote a letter to my competition
It started off with: Dearly Departed
Hippie, I be so trippy
Give her pus*y a hicky
I hope she ain’t strictly di*kly
So we can menage to Nicki, ooh
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