Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Trop bon , by - Free StyleRelease date: 10.04.2014
Song language: English
Trop bon |
| I’m talking trap shit |
| From now on, if you ain’t been in that booth |
| I don’t wanna do a song with you |
| Trap shit, aye |
| I roll up my weed, I’m smokin' that pound |
| I’m up in the boat, I think it’s a drought |
| The car should pull out, the rest should pull out |
| What else can I say? |
| I love the trap house |
| I love the trap house (x4) |
| The car should pull out, the rest should pull out |
| What else can I say? |
| I love the trap house |
| I’m up in the boat, I’m whippin' a fo' |
| I’m whippin' a nine, the Rollie my time, no wastin' my time |
| I’m doing my time if I do the crime, these niggas gon' tell |
| I said these niggas gon' tell, they ain’t got no bail, these niggas is hell |
| I love it, I love it like August Alsina, I’m whippin' a Beamer |
| These niggas, they plottin', these niggas, they schemin', |
| Made everybody say «Woo!» |
| I’m up in the boat with Gambino, they say «Woo!» |
| Her pussy got a little tang so I say «Wu!» |
| Heh, heh, heh, don’t crack me up |
| Money, you know I stacked it up |
| Six months then I packed it up, trap rules |
| Carry so much weight, shit, I gotta make the news |
| I love the trap house |
| What can I say? |
| I love the bando, you don’t need to be talking |
| What can I say? |
| The bando got a nigga Giuseppe-walking |
| Papi know that I’mma shoot |
| If you try to take a deuce, lean or boot |
| She a bad bitch but I make her cook, now she mad at me |
| She jingalin' them pockets out a papi |
| It ain’t a trap house, you ain’t got a shooter at the door |
| Hell nah, it ain’t no trap house, you ain’t got a fork and a bowl |
| I can’t get enough of the egg beater |
| Got my hand in the bowl whippin' jungle fever |
| Walk in my trap house, I’m selling that Justin Bieber |
| Trap nigga, using my strap for a heater |
| My diamonds on cold, they callin' me Freezer |
| You pussy nigga, they call you Vegeta |
| A hundred thousand for a feature |
| Fifty thousand for a picture |
| Back then was I was a lil' nigga |
| Gettin' in trouble, had to see the preacher |
| Mama told me read the scripture |
| «Put God first and you’ll be a rich nigga» |
| Whippin' and whippin' and whippin' and whippin' that pot |
| (Whippin' it, whippin' it, whippin' it) Till my arms fall off |
| Lot of ratchets, pacer active, money machine how I’m coppin' it |
| I love the trap house, got a brick on my couch |
| Got a K on my couch, got yo' bitch in my house |
| I built the empire, started with a ounce |
| Stretching the nine cause every ground counts |
| Trap out the bando, just like I’m Rambo |
| It’s just surveillance when I change the channel |
| Trappin' and cappin' bought me a new Phantom |
| I paid my dues, I dropped outta school |
| They say I’m a fool, I’m whippin' the deuce |
| I never fold cause I don’t have a clue |
| Touch down on a pussy like dog food |
| Distributing work with intentions |
| I’m the teacher, yo' bitch in detention |
| Fifty bricks all outta quantity |
| Controllin' the flour, good quality |
| (Woop woop) There go 12! |
| Go in the house, we can’t go to jail! |
| No T.I., I’m on a paper trail |
| Enchilada for sale like Taco Bell |
| Indian, trap with the cartel |
| Cook in the kitchen, Offset a chef |
| My fork swim in water like Michael Phelps |
| I made a million in the trap with no help! |