Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The red Carpet, artist - Trapo. Album song Oil Change, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 01.08.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Trapo
Song language: English
The red Carpet |
I appreciate that |
I appreciate that, only one more shot though |
I gotta drive, I’m bein' granite in a wall for bein' realer than they try |
I was lookin' up to God and they was lookin' up the guy |
They was lookin' up the man, they honor word, that man a lie |
I tell the truth though, who is this? |
Tellin' me he got a full clip, call bullshit |
It’s more than double X’s, I’m a straight professional |
Legally dangerous, we steppin' out |
Death usually creep when you tired |
Catch you while you sleep when you tried |
To prevent, be disguised as a weakness for some thighs |
If 12 still hangin' at the store, I ain’t goin' |
'Less the bros is on blowin' cop badges off shoulders, I’m cool |
You, niggas I cloned still on the block |
They never owned, still gonna rock |
They never sold niggas around |
But listen to souls and shit |
But if it don’t move me then I can’t condone |
I peep part through the window in your soul |
You just altered by your ego, you’re just an award show |
Some of us share a problem and I’m honored |
Keep pretending we don’t, work until I’m so broke, right |
I was ridin' through the city, I was watchin' out for death, they was lookin' |
at me weird |
Probably 'cause a nigga walk, yeah he walk like he walkin' with protection on |
the side of his leg |
I was runnin' from the kids, they was mistakin' the dreads, they was mistakin' |
the skin |
For some nigga who was shootin' at the cops |
He at least six-five and I’m only five-ten |
You’re just an award show |
But congrats, for foolin' us with raps |
About tuckin' an imaginary pistol |
Readin' through imaginary lines |
'bout imaginary crimes that you niggas say you went through |
Congrats, for foolin' us with raps |
About tuckin' an imaginary pistol |
Readin' through imaginary lines |
'bout imaginary crimes that you niggas say you went through |
Parking lot, the corner of the block |
Where all the bummy niggas cock at shorty’s purse |
But shorty from around, rounds under shorty’s skirt |
That’s how she get down, she’s a gangster bitch |
And she got me arroused |
Blow a nigga down, literally the mouth wild |
You’re just an award show |
Do these gold bottles make us role models? |
Is it winning if the hoes follow us off of the mall |
And the kids with no fathers picture as gods |
But the niggas on the block, they just envy us and gossip |
Minimum wage will make you cherish your gauge |
Insomnia all the time, you pedal how to get paid |
And if you get a raise, it’s a graveyard |
So my windows tinted still and it’s still on my waist |
On that double tombstone, tryna catch an eight |
And you might catch a wave and I’m crashing on the shore and shit |
And rappin' like you poor again, some things never change |
But congrats, right |
But congrats, for foolin' us with raps |
About tuckin' an imaginary pistol |
Readin' through imaginary lines |
'bout imaginary crimes that you niggas say you went through, why |
Congrats, for foolin' us with raps |
About tuckin' an imaginary pistol |
Right, right, right |
Yeah (congrats, congrats) |
I was ridin' through the city, I was watchin' out for death, it was lookin' at |
me weird, yeah |
Probably 'cause that nigga walk, yeah he walk like he walkin' with protection |
on the side of his leg |
Through the city, I was lookin' out for, they was lookin' at me scared |
Man, slide through on Sunday, bro. |
Literally, bro. |
It’s gonna be lit on Sunday, |
bro. |
It really is bro. |
I’m tellin' you this right now bro. |
'Cause we ridin' |
there deep as hell too, like… |
Hold on, hold that |
I learned from my mother and my uncles and my brothers, no relation |
No relation, we just hung out all the time |
Wanted to be famous when I was a little child |
My first label meeting was like eating off the ground |
Every crumb right next to fire, gasoline, and dollar bill |
You might say demeaning, I say shit make you a man |
I think every empty stomach come with hunger and a plan |
Depending how you bummin', nigga you already dead |
Trouble near, we prepared |
People 'round the corner for karma, no armor |
Tryin' real hard to never disappear |
'Cause anytime someone’ll try and free your mind |
Free your mind (moving to the exit) |
Free your mind (I been goin' through) |
Free your mind (hate to let it get to me this time) |
Girl let it sit |
All it takes to free your mind |
Forget 'bout everything and everyone |
He say all it really takes to finally free your mind |
Forget 'bout everything and everyone |
All it really take, take |
To free your mind and forget (free your mind) |
I just can’t be bothered with shit, today |
All it really take, take |
To free your mind and forget |
I just can’t be bothered with shit, today |
Who is this nigga approaching my section? |
Flexing for these bitches, flashing his weapon |
Tryna be tougher than his threads will let him |
Skinny jeans and septum wings in niggas' noses |
Get way more traction then them flowin' shit |
And that’s facts, only the black man |
Like a time bomb, and I might hard |
You niggas, that’s for fuckin' with my page |
I was rappin' 'bout the shade, now I’m rappin' 'bout them days |
And how they really still ain’t came |
I was hopin' for a raise |
Now I’m plottin' on runnin' in niggas' places, shoes |
Playstations, dodgin' the plantation |
Penitentiary mindstates |
Livin' with your mind caged |
When we need oxygen |
And most passing toxicants to cope, I play it cool |
'Cause y’all gon' follow rules to you lose |
I ignore 'em 'cause my birthday passed |
And I ain’t quite made it up to expectation yet |
Oh shit, wait |