Lyrics Trap House - Gucci Mane

Trap House

In the Trap house, in the Trap House, in the Trap House
Gucci Mane Check It
Choppa on the floor pistol on the couch
Hood rich so I never had a bank account
Junkies going in junkies going out
Made a hundred thou, In my Trap House
Money kinda short but we can work it out
Made a hundred thou, in my Trap House
Bricks going in, bricks going out
Made a hundred thou, in my Trap House
I’m tired of selling bricks I wanna go legit
I wonder can I sell 11 mill like 50 Cent
Cause platinum ain’t enough I got too many vices
I love to smoke weed love to shoot dices
Say my lifestyle extravagant I talk cash shit
Bitches say I’m arrogant well goddamn Gucci cocky then
But at the same time young hoes be jocking slim
«Gucci ain’t shit.», Bitch, I beg your pardon
I’m independent but I’m balling like a major artist
I stay high like giraffe pussy In My Trap House
Smokin' bubba kushie
Choppa on the floor pistol on the couch
Hood rich so I never had a bank account
Junkies going in junkies going out
Made a hundred thou, In my Trap House
Money kinda short but we can work it out
Made a hundred thou, in my Trap House
Bricks going in, bricks going out
Made a hundred thou, in my Trap House
Jumped out the whip everybody looking
Big clouds of smoke but ain’t nobody cooking
(female talking) «Girl, there go Gucci Mane
I want his autograph cause I’m his biggest fan»
Yellow Humm-V with the yellow feet
Yellow diamonds the same color cheddar cheese
And I’m smoking on that purple shit
They call me temp service cause I’ll work a bitch
Money long like Shaq feet
Running dough like a sprinter at a track meet
I heard he got that soft white
Extended clips make them busters get they mind right
Choppa on the floor pistol on the couch
Hood rich so I never had a bank account
Junkies going in junkies going out
Made a hundred thou, In my Trap House
Money kinda short but we can work it out
Made a hundred thou, in my Trap House
Bricks going in, bricks going out
Made a hundred thou, in my Trap House
In my trap house watchin SportsCenter
In the kitchen cooking but I ain’t cooking dinner
Splash it with the water whip it make it harder
17 for 'em the same number as Qunice Carter
Say I’m working with wit a mill or better
Married to the game me and money live together
Street smart niggah never listen to the teacher
You can catch me in the bathroom smoking reefer
Prices low like Walmart
Bricks on aisle 9 get ya shopping cart
Knee deep in the dope game
I’m not a farmer but I’m known to push them collard greens
Choppa on the floor pistol on the couch
Hood rich so I never had a bank account
Junkies going in junkies going out
Made a hundred thou, In my Trap House
Money kinda short but we can work it out
Made a hundred thou, in my Trap House
Bricks going in, bricks going out
Made a hundred thou, in my Trap House