Lyrics Thank God For The Trap - Larry June

Thank God For The Trap

What you know about them nights, nigga?
You know I’m sayin'?
Ridin' 'round to the neck
Mind steady on a check, you know I mean?
And bitch, you better come correct, you know I’m sayin'?
Numbers, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
Wrist dancin' like a motherfuckin' Jabbawockeez
I told you that in 2015, right?
Numbers
I’m tired of this bullshit (Damn), I activate beast mode (Yeah)
I wake up early (Man), the money I thug for (Money I thug for)
I’m stayin' on my toes, the streets is
I stand my ground (Man), and bitch, I’m never nervous
Block hot, still got money to make (Money to make)
7.62's jumpin' outta the cake (Ooh, outta the cake)
But I maneuver, 'cause nigga, I like money and nice shit (Money and nice shit)
My swag is priceless (Man), my bag is righteous
You mad I got the bitch (Damn), I’m havin' guap-alich (Yeah)
Your bag do not exist (Nah), you
and rappin' shit (Yeah)
My drawls got horses on it, bitch, stop playin' with me (Playin' with me)
Meet me at LV (Check), and bring some bands with you (Bring some bands with you)
Don’t check me, check your temperature
Head’s so good, she’s a keeper (What's hannin'?)
I just tossed the matte on the whip (On the whip)
Nigga, twin turbo, don’t trip (Don't trip)
I get money, and I’m never on no fuck-boy shit (Man)
I make songs for the bad bitches and the real niggas
Thank God for the trap, I got rich off my life (Yeah)
I’m real city nigga, let me show you how we rock, yeah
Healthy ass nigga with a pocket full of check (Check)
Real street nigga, slidin' 'round to the neck (Neck)
My life really him, bitch, I ain’t gotta flex (Flex)
My life really him, bitch, I ain’t gotta flex (Flex)
What I look like complainin'?
I got it out the mud
I’m a real street nigga, it’s just somethin' in my blood
When I slide through the town, nigga push Grand Nash (Nash)
Run into my nigga Hustle on the Harley hoggin' ass
Bitch, I’m 'bout a token, got these hoes hopin' (Hopin')
Pussy still sellin', so these hoes still goin' (Goin')
Ice man, Ice man, left wrist frozen (Ooh, numbers)
Chop by the nightstand, locked, and it’s loaded
These niggas is loafin' (Loafin'), never touched a ticket (Never)
«Larry, what you doin?»
Bitch, I’m on a mission
These niggas is emotional and barely gettin' chicken (Chicken)
They hatin' (Man), so they get to talkin' on the Twitter (Twitter)
I’m not in competition, I like money and bad bitches (Yeah)
Tooly with extension in the kitchen for one reason (Yeah)
Just in case a nigga try to jack (Try to jack)
If the paint wet, the rims gotta match
I get money, and I’m never on no fuck boy shit (Man)
I make songs for the bad bitches and the real niggas
Thank God for the trap, I got rich off my life (Yeah)
I’m real city nigga, let me show you how we rock, yeah
Healthy ass nigga with a pocket full of check (Check)
Real street nigga, slidin' 'round to the neck (Neck)
My life really him, bitch, I ain’t gotta flex (Flex)
My life really him, bitch, I ain’t gotta flex (Numbers)