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trapdon reeko - body count rise كلمات أغنية

[intro: trapdon reeko]
(ayy, iceberg on that cold sh_t)
(yeah, yeah—cratekutterz)
huh, man—nova, let’s body somethin’
look, this that “get low” music
hah, f_ck them opps, n_gga
we up—b_tch!

[chorus: trapdon reeko]
i make it jump like a dope spot raid (boom!)
slide through blocks, make the body count raise
f_ck them n_ggas, they broke and fake
put a bag on his head, make the whole clique skate
big drum on the stick, sh_t spray (grah)
catch him lackin’ in the field broad day
pop out the v with a mask and flame
i don’t give no fcks, i was made this way

[verse 1: trapdon reeko]
got four glocks in this dodge, no cap
whole gang ride with sticks like iraq
he dissin’ on songs, got clapped
now his face in the dirt, got smacked
ayy, this ain’t rap, this real life murders
catch him in traffic, turn him to a burger
he was tryna flex with his homie chain
now his lil’ mans dead, that sh_t ain’t worth it
f_ck your set, f_ck your block
i’m outside, b_tch, i ain’t duckin’ no shots
tell that ho stop talkin’ like she gangsta
before she get sent where the last one dropped
y’all be rappin’ ‘bout drills we done
y’all cappin’, we really got blood on funds
n_gga, we up, give a f_ck ’bout a deal
still runnin’ from the jakes with a full clip drum
[chorus: trapdon reeko & yb nova]
i make it jump like a dope spot raid (boom!)
slide through blocks, make the body count raise
f_ck them n_ggas, they broke and fake
put a bag on his head, make the whole clique skate
big drum on the stick, sh_t spray (baow)
catch him lackin’ in the field broad day
pop out the v with a mask and flame
i don’t give no f_cks, i was made this way (b_tch!)

[verse 2: yb nova]
yeah, i was raised round felons and crooks
we don’t read no script, we don’t play by books
he got caught with his pants down bad
now he viral as a meme, fck how he look
b_tch, i’m slime for real, no jokes
put five in his dome, now he ghost
try to run, got hit in his back
he crawled out bleedin’, fck your post
big stick, got a switch on the side
hit his ride, now his brother can’t drive
call my phone, talkin’ ‘bout, “let’s chill”
b_tch, you late, yo’ cousin just died
i got racks, but i still ride strapped
don’t trust sh_t, i ain’t gettin’ caught lack
f_ck rap, i was up off crack
now i’m eatin’ with shooters who done spun back back
[chorus: trapdon reeko & yb nova]
i make it jump like a dope spot raid (skrrt!)
slide through blocks, make the body count raise (boom, boom!)
f_ck them n_ggas, they broke and fake
put a bag on his head, make the whole clique skate
big drum on the stick, sh_t spray (grah)
catch him lackin’ in the field broad day
pop out the v with a mask and flame
i don’t give no f_cks, i was made this way (let’s go!)

[verse 3: trapdon reeko]
my wrist on ice, but my heart stay cold
shootout in the rain, no coat
my ho got a .9 in her louis bag
she’ll pop at a opp if i say so
i don’t post, i don’t tweet, i spin
let the ar bark, no grin
they be actin’ like gangstas online
till them hollows go right through skin
ayy, i don’t fear no n_gga alive
he bleedin’, we leavin’ him fried
shoot from close range, i ain’t missin’
put that on my dead lil’ bro who died
f_ck that party, we slid in the back
let the drum go nuts, that b_tch went “clack”
heard a scream, then i ran out laughin’
that’s what the f_ck you get when you cap
[outro: yb nova]
yeah—haha, b_tch
2025, we steppin’
trapdon reeko, nova
get your paperwork straight, b_tch
or your face on that tee
skrrt!

- trapdon reeko

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