Trapezoid Songtext
von Nicholas Craven & Boldy James
Trapezoid Songtext
Two-way, deuce, siete
227
Fifty-fifty
Rippin′, slicin' bricks open with box cutters, no 50 ties
In a minno, sellin′ all these pints without no liquor license
Pistol clutchin', catchin' all the pops who be whiffle-dustin′
Runnin′ up the cards, handin' off, [?] we crunchin′
Unc'y nose runnin′, it look like he comin' down with somethin′
Sellin' all these bumps to the head, shit like a mild concussion
I once was lost, but, I found it, I owe it all to [?]
Supreme crack Air Forces out the Playboy Amiris
More the merrier, too much poison berry had me short of breath
'Noid to death, love is null and void like a voided check
Circle tight as gnat pussy
Square-dancin′ nigga, you a daddy′s boy
If I was a shape, I'd be a trapezoid
AP like an octagon, countin′ up these rectangles
Rock out like Rick Rubin, all these Cubans on my neck tangled
Bagel on her right wrist, anklet on her left ankle
He know she with me, 'cause she be postin′ from her best angle
Last night had the time of my life, brodie cracked the seal
I rarely step out, when I do, no less than half a mil'
Too drunk to let you hit my blunt, too high to pass the sniff
Can′t stop for this street shit, 'cause a nigga really trap, for real
We really trap, for real, this shit really track and field
Really slap them bricks and 'bows, hit the road and traffic pills
We really trap, for real, this shit really track and field
Still in the hood lookin′ like I inked a platinum deal
T-Tops on the Monte, brand new G-lock and a hottie
Lil′ bloody stone runnin', run with treetops and no bounties
Keep that quicker picker upper, keep that ish far from ′round me
Niggas never knew I rapped, I never freestyled in the county, you know
We keep the money in the family like it's incest
Ain′t no paperwork on no nigga I run with, that's a big flex
Seen all fifty shades, but this a different gray
I done shot so many niggas, I know my day comin′ any day
Seen it all, been through it all, what can I say?
My pops ain't had to take care of me since the day a nigga ran away
Anyone who know me know this ain't my first rodeo
Rollie on my wrist, I never had to jump rodeo
These niggas Laffy Taffy rappers, that mean they been a joke
Whole city know a nigga push a mean envelope
We ain′t buyin′ that shit that you sellin'
Bad nights in McClellen
It′s game time, ConCreatures, 227
Last night had the time of my life, brodie cracked the seal
I rarely step out, when I do, no less than half a mil'
Too drunk to let you hit my blunt, too high to pass the sniff
Can′t stop for this street shit, 'cause a nigga really trap, for real
We really trap, for real, this shit really track and field
Really slap them bricks and ′bows, hit the road and traffic pills
We really trap, for real, this shit really track and field
Still in the hood lookin' like I inked a platinum deal
What else?
227
Fifty-fifty
Rippin′, slicin' bricks open with box cutters, no 50 ties
In a minno, sellin′ all these pints without no liquor license
Pistol clutchin', catchin' all the pops who be whiffle-dustin′
Runnin′ up the cards, handin' off, [?] we crunchin′
Unc'y nose runnin′, it look like he comin' down with somethin′
Sellin' all these bumps to the head, shit like a mild concussion
I once was lost, but, I found it, I owe it all to [?]
Supreme crack Air Forces out the Playboy Amiris
More the merrier, too much poison berry had me short of breath
'Noid to death, love is null and void like a voided check
Circle tight as gnat pussy
Square-dancin′ nigga, you a daddy′s boy
If I was a shape, I'd be a trapezoid
AP like an octagon, countin′ up these rectangles
Rock out like Rick Rubin, all these Cubans on my neck tangled
Bagel on her right wrist, anklet on her left ankle
He know she with me, 'cause she be postin′ from her best angle
Last night had the time of my life, brodie cracked the seal
I rarely step out, when I do, no less than half a mil'
Too drunk to let you hit my blunt, too high to pass the sniff
Can′t stop for this street shit, 'cause a nigga really trap, for real
We really trap, for real, this shit really track and field
Really slap them bricks and 'bows, hit the road and traffic pills
We really trap, for real, this shit really track and field
Still in the hood lookin′ like I inked a platinum deal
T-Tops on the Monte, brand new G-lock and a hottie
Lil′ bloody stone runnin', run with treetops and no bounties
Keep that quicker picker upper, keep that ish far from ′round me
Niggas never knew I rapped, I never freestyled in the county, you know
We keep the money in the family like it's incest
Ain′t no paperwork on no nigga I run with, that's a big flex
Seen all fifty shades, but this a different gray
I done shot so many niggas, I know my day comin′ any day
Seen it all, been through it all, what can I say?
My pops ain't had to take care of me since the day a nigga ran away
Anyone who know me know this ain't my first rodeo
Rollie on my wrist, I never had to jump rodeo
These niggas Laffy Taffy rappers, that mean they been a joke
Whole city know a nigga push a mean envelope
We ain′t buyin′ that shit that you sellin'
Bad nights in McClellen
It′s game time, ConCreatures, 227
Last night had the time of my life, brodie cracked the seal
I rarely step out, when I do, no less than half a mil'
Too drunk to let you hit my blunt, too high to pass the sniff
Can′t stop for this street shit, 'cause a nigga really trap, for real
We really trap, for real, this shit really track and field
Really slap them bricks and ′bows, hit the road and traffic pills
We really trap, for real, this shit really track and field
Still in the hood lookin' like I inked a platinum deal
What else?
Writer(s): James Clay Jones Iii, Nicholas Craven Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
