| This is a place where opportunities few
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| And niggas feud for land they’ll never own
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| Where they raise hell and waste shells
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| And duck baby mamas but rarely escape jail
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| This is the trap… the trap.
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| Death on my opposition, no
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| Them watchin' me blow is more than evening the score
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| And my team has a flow, ambition see the results
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| And to get to my spirit seeing twitpics of them diplomas, word
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| Cannot stress it, through God blessings we made it out
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| For the have-nots that have a knot to have knots
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| Hats off, we been working our ass off
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| And we all-stars that made the squad with the cap off
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| Steinbrenner, designed to make your dynasty weary
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| Sometimes I’m a dick, but you niggas placenta
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| And that’s the problem, it’s a problem, don’t dap me my nigga
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| Just tap me my nigga, then get at me my nigga
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| Man fuck a dappin' you rappers should get back off the fingers
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| Trust in God and you golden, trust in rap and you empty
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| Bust a mac and you gangster, that’s how them youngins livin'
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| Shout out that Georgetown Press they still trappin' the district
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| Blessings we made it out, blessings we made it out
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| They still trappin' the district
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| Trust in God and you golden, trust in rap and you empty
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| Blessings we made it out, blessings we made it out
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| Shout out that Georgetown Press they still trappin' the district
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| Lil nigga, but I’m Patrick Ewing on these blocks
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| My mac cold like Dikembe nigga, who need Glocks
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| These crooked cops keep tryin' steal the ball from me
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| But 'Le like Kevin Braswell with the rock
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| 600 plus assists, plus this I must’nt miss
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| Hard work it comes with this? |
| That’s why I fuck with this
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| G set the fuckin' pick, I went straight to the hole
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| Went to college a day, dropped out went straight for my goals
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| Now it’s dough in my mattress, my bitch look like an actress
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| Cuz I studied the defense, and I stayed after practice
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| On my way to the league, only limit the sky
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| Still I show up to practice, I can’t end up A. I
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| Pay attention or miss it
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| Shout out to Georgetown but I won’t get trapped in the District, nah
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| Lightshow
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| Leader of the people who ain’t tryna be led
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| But I’mma get us all back if I can smile all year
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| I seen bums happy as anyone
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| Millionaires set for bread
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| Some be livin' for crumbs
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| Motherfuckers don’t fuck with us I still be showin' love
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| Cause if I was local and they was on it I’d be naah
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| Don’t trip off what a bitch say, shovel on a good day
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| All my youngins put up numbers just like Bubbachuck in kente
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| When we can’t hit the league we let the streets mislead and dictate
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| And there is no I in team, but can you read the eye on Vic’s Page
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| Otto Porter with all the water servin' the corners
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| Rayful callin' up 'Zo Mourning before the tourney
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| Servin' drugs, some us don’t make it out here
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| My niggas had some plugs, I gave 'em a better outlet
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| There’s a difference in words: hustle and trappin'
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| See hustlers find a way out, while the latter can’t climb up out it
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| The trap
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| Georgetown coach John Thompson made a personal appeal to Edmond to stay away
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| from his players. |
| He built this team into a national power, and now the specter
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| of a D.C. drug dealer in the age of crack, you know, well, that could have
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| destroyed everything |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Georgetown Press, artist - Wale. Album song Folarin, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп