Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Like Home , by - MadMarccRelease date: 11.06.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Like Home |
| Got a Draco in the closet |
| With a wood grain handle |
| I’m around every countries |
| Nigga play again, it’s mantle |
| Run it up now, ooh |
| Give a damn, we 'on't care what a nigga think |
| (Yeah, yeah) |
| Run it up now, ooh |
| Give a damn, I’mma take this money to the bank |
| (Yeah, yeah) |
| I’ve been all around the world (yeah) |
| But the trap still, trap still feel like home |
| (Yeah, yeah) |
| I said the trap still feel home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| I said the trap still feel home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| I said the trap still feel home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| I said the trap still feel home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| Said the trap still feel home |
| Reppin' on the road, said he doin' shows |
| Didn’t see that, I pray for her I know but- |
| Trappin' with my bros, trappin' with bros |
| All I know, it’s the way we have growed up |
| Lookin' at my mint like, «What?, It’s cold» |
| Lookin' at my wrist, that pussy mad 'cause he froze up |
| Pull up in that Lamborghini, throw the doors up |
| Nigga want some smoke, wait hold up |
| We can not wait to show up |
| I might be the one who got him rockin' like a boulder |
| Fuck 'em, when I’m on a Perc' |
| Won’t touch 'em when I’m sober |
| Put him in your armor shirt, won’t put him on a poster |
| Glizzy in my pocket, I can’t rock it, ain’t no hoes here |
| You my flow, would sit there, know that it would give him pneumonia |
| Know that I be drippin', and know that I keep it on |
| Draco in the closet, them motherfuckers so rude |
| Sippin' post, I said the trap still feel like home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| I said the trap still feel home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| I said the trap still feel home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| I said the trap still feel home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| I said the trap still feel home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| Said the trap still feel home |
| Thousand miles away, I be gone |
| I got rich and famous, I’m high, I still pick up the phone |
| But I wasn’t down the road, yeah |
| Free the fuckin' bros, yeah |
| I can change these hoes out, like I change my clothes now |
| I can’t not, my heads and my lung dog and they clean for while |
| Stop posting my picture of my drip, they won’t have no style |
| Hundid thousand in my pocket had napping, you know I get a profile |
| Niggas think I’m sweet, tryna lick me and it’s gon' to go south |
| Never try to dish you a bashing move, on with no problems |
| One thing that I know is your dollars up, get on my swuad |
| They out still like slime, someone go get my drive |
| Crying when you might not come home, that’s what I call silent |
| Fuck around and found me a plug, and vinced for exotics |
| Never goin' back to my hood, 'cause I ain’t gon' leave a body |
| Make sure that my people, them good, that’s what I care about |
| I said the trap still feel like home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| I said the trap still feel home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| I said the trap still feel home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| I said the trap still feel home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| I said the trap still feel home |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| Said the trap still feel home |