larry june – thank god for the trap كلمات اغاني
[intro]
what you know about them nights, n_gga?
you know i’m sayin’? ridin’ ‘round to the neck
mind steady on a check, you know i mean?
and b_tch, you better come correct, you know i’m sayin’?
numbers, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
wrist dancin’ like a motherf_ckin’ jabbawockeez
i told you that in 2015, right?
numbers
[verse 1]
i’m tired of this bullsh_t (d_mn), i activate beast mode (yeah)
i wake up early (man), the money i thug for (money i thug for)
i’m stayin’ on my toes, the streets is [?]
i stand my ground (man), and b_tch, i’m never nervous
block hot, still got money to make (money to make)
7.62’s jumpin’ outta the cake (ooh, outta the cake)
but i maneuver, ‘cause n_gga, i like money and nice sh_t (money and nice sh_t)
my swag is priceless (man), my bag is righteous
you mad i got the b_tch (d_mn), i’m havin’ guap_alich (yeah)
your bag do not exist (nah), you [?] and rappin’ sh_t (yeah)
my drawls got horses on it, b_tch, stop playin’ with me (playin’ with me)
meet me at lv (check), and bring some bands with you (bring some bands with you)
don’t check me, check your temperature
head’s so good, she’s a keeper (what’s hannin’?)
i just tossed the matte on the whip (on the whip)
n_gga, twin turbo, don’t trip (don’t trip)
[chorus]
i get money, and i’m never on no f_ck_boy sh_t (man)
i make songs for the bad b_tches and the real n_ggas
thank god for the trap, i got rich off my life (yeah)
i’m real city n_gga, let me show you how we rock, yeah
healthy ass n_gga with a pocket full of check (check)
real street n_gga, slidin’ ‘round to the neck (neck)
my life really him, b_tch, i ain’t gotta flex (flex)
my life really him, b_tch, i ain’t gotta flex (flex)
[verse 2]
what i look like complainin’? i got it out the mud
i’m a real street n_gga, it’s just somethin’ in my blood
when i slide through the town, n_gga push grand nash (nash)
run into my n_gga hustle on the harley hoggin’ ass
b_tch, i’m ‘bout a token, got these hoes hopin’ (hopin’)
p_ssy still sellin’, so these hoes still goin’ (goin’)
ice man, ice man, left wrist frozen (ooh, numbers)
chop by the nightstand, locked, and it’s loaded
these n_ggas is loafin’ (loafin’), never touched a ticket (never)
“larry, what you doin?” b_tch, i’m on a mission
these n_ggas is emotional and barely gettin’ chicken (chicken)
they hatin’ (man), so they get to talkin’ on the twitter (twitter)
i’m not in competition, i like money and bad b_tches (yeah)
tooly with extension in the kitchen for one reason (yeah)
just in case a n_gga try to jack (try to jack)
if the paint wet, the rims gotta match
[chorus]
i get money, and i’m never on no f_ck boy sh_t (man)
i make songs for the bad b_tches and the real n_ggas
thank god for the trap, i got rich off my life (yeah)
i’m real city n_gga, let me show you how we rock, yeah
healthy ass n_gga with a pocket full of check (check)
real street n_gga, slidin’ ‘round to the neck (neck)
my life really him, b_tch, i ain’t gotta flex (flex)
my life really him, b_tch, i ain’t gotta flex (numbers)
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