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yng rippa - week in the trap كلمات أغنية

[chorus: yng rippa]
i ain’t stressin’ no opp, i’m waitin’ outside, f_ck the talkin’, i’m bringin’ the heat
n_ggas be postin’ they beef on they story, then duck when they see me on feet
i was just slidin’ through larkin with 30s, parked outside for a motherf_ckin’ week
heard he got hit in his gut, now he p_ssin’ out blood every time that he pee
you say you a k!ller, i doubt it, you cry on the net, lil’ n_gga, you weak
don’t come ’round my side if you ain’t strapped up—we pop doors, we don’t tweet
whole team on go, we don’t talk no more, we just scope and delete
i spent nights in the trap, no food, just tools, and a mattress with nothin’ but heat

[verse: yng rippa]
yo b_tch be suckin’ and gaggin’, her knees got scars, but she love this savage
i was 8 with a stick in my coat, tryna run up a l!ck like a grown_ass bandit
tote that pipe like it’s part of my soul, if i see one move, i’ma let that blast hit
n_ggas be flexin’ them guns for clout, whole time they ain’t never let sh_t happen
bro got booked, said “f_ck that cell”, came home with a blade in his sleeve
we don’t do drive_bys, b_tch we walk close range, two shots in the back, he bleed
i been deep in the smoke, my lungs all dark, i don’t feel sh_t when they leave
i lost one, i lost two, now i’m slidin’ ’round blocks with a tech in my jeans
i’m in the whip with the seat laid low, mask on face and a bag full of rounds
we don’t wait ’til tomorrow, we spin on sight, turn his smile to a permanent frown
f_ck yo gang and f_ck yo hood, i’ll say that sh_t loud, i ain’t duckin’ no sound
i’m a young wild demon from the southside streets, and i’m holdin’ my ground
they shot at me once, now they scared to shoot twice
he postin’ a threat? we gon’ take his life
i been on dirt since 3rd grade fights
now i’m servin’ packs and takin’ flights
[chorus: yng rippa]
i ain’t stressin’ no opp, i’m waitin’ outside, f_ck the talkin’, i’m bringin’ the heat
n_ggas be postin’ they beef on they story, then duck when they see me on feet
i was just slidin’ through larkin with 30s, parked outside for a motherf_ckin’ week
heard he got hit in his gut, now he p_ssin’ out blood every time that he pee
you say you a k!ller, i doubt it, you cry on the net, lil’ n_gga, you weak
don’t come ’round my side if you ain’t strapped up—we pop doors, we don’t tweet
whole team on go, we don’t talk no more, we just scope and delete
i spent nights in the trap, no food, just tools, and a mattress with nothin’ but heat

- yng rippa

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