Trap Shit Song Lyrics

Trap Shit by Gucci Mane

[Gucci Mane:] (Zaytoven)
Trap sh*t
Trap sh*t (Huh)
Trap sh*t
Trap sh*t

Sellin’ Vin Diesel, strong Cookie, that Keisha
Gucci poppin’ P’s like Georgia just made it legal (Wow)
Higher than an eagle, leanin’ like Beanie Sigel (I’m leanin’)
Flyer than a pilot, jean jacket by Diesel (Phew)
All-gold rocket, the socket matchin’ my Foamposite
You’s a nobody, she goin’, she f**k with everybody (Go)
Lil’ ‘Crest boys in the hood, wanna see a dead body?
Four pockets stuffed and LaFlare, we bust at everybody
At Club Crucial, these hood b**ches, they love Crucial (Wow)
That’s my young shooter, recruit him to send some slugs through you
We search ’em ‘fore they come in the trap, might have a bug on ’em (Huh?)
He’s a walking dead man, don’t know it, he got a dub on him (Yeah)
Beat him with a bat, then f**k it, pour kerosene on him
Everybody searchin’ for holmes, but we ain’t seen homie
Chainsaw massacre, call 1017 on ’em
Make it look drug-related, man, pour some lean on him

Fifty racks cash on me, that’s just today’s profit (Today’s profit)
4 Pockets Full, lil’ b**ch, I ain’t got no damn wallet (I ain’t got no wallet)
f**k around and got in the game, I got the streets poppin’ (I got ’em poppin’)
Pussy niggas tellin’ on me, I know the feds watchin’ (I know they watchin’)
How the hell he gettin’ this money? I keep on buyin’ watches
Jackboys thinkin’ I’m sweet, I keep on buyin’ choppers
Lock me up, I’m gettin’ out tomorrow, I think I’m El Chapo
Bricks came 1017, I got some damn extras
Flexin’ on these niggas on purpose, check out this damn necklace
Dropped eighty racks on a Charger, next day, I damn wrecked it (Skrrt)
Pull up with them sticks like the army, they say we young veterans
They won’t pull up in them apartments, they say we too treacherous

Everything I rap ’bout official, I’m from the streets, b**ch (Street)
Hundred thousand all my pockets, this ain’t no sweet lick (Sweet)
‘Nother 60K on my wrist, this a Patek, b**ch (This a Patek, b**ch)
All my hoes got fat asses, they all on fleek, b**ch (They all on fleek, b**ch)
All my b**ches wearin’ designer, I don’t want no cheap b**ch (I don’t want no cheap b**ch)
Draco with me everywhere I go, on the front seat, b**ch (On the front seat, b**ch)
Trap sh*t, niggas know I’m ’bout it (Wow)
Trap sh*t, niggas know I’m ’bout it (Yeah)