Testo Trap - HollyHood Bay Bay feat. Trapboy Freddy & Young Dolph
Testo della canzone Trap (HollyHood Bay Bay feat. Trapboy Freddy & Young Dolph), tratta dall'album Trap
Uh-huh, ayy
Bay Bay the ambassador, partner, brr
Yeah, two, three, four, five (blaow)
Six diamond chains on (what?)
Yeah, four diamond rings on (for real)
Heh, M's on top of M's when I came home (M's)
Ha, my lil' bitch, she ratchet, yeah
Bend her over, stab it, uh
Yoppas, they on deck, let a pussy nigga have it (take that)
I be dead fresh, huh, bitch, closed casket
I got money habits (trap), tragic (trap)
You see the pounds, now you don't, trap nigga magic (walla)
Thousand pounds gone (gone)
If I make it, memories disappear, am I wrong?
Getting head on the 'eway, I just hope I make it home
Bitch ratchet just like Trina, but she fine like Nia Long
She bad and she a savage, yeah
Pretty and she nasty, yeah
Do she call me daddy? Yeah
Met her in Louisiana, fucked her down in Dallas, yeah
Dolph, did you get your first million from sending things from Cali'? Yeah
All we know is trappin', yeah
A hundred rounds in traffic, yeah
Ayy, trap (trap), trap (trap)
Trap (trap), trap (trap)
Trap (trap), trap (trap)
Trap (trap), trap (trap)
Count (count), count (count)
Count (count it), count (count)
Count (it's all there), count (count)
Count (ayy), count (ayy)
If your bitch look good, then I might take her (yeah, yeah)
I just fuck 'em, nah, I don't wanna date her (yeah, yeah)
Nigga, where your cake? You look like Captain Saver (trap)
Money keep calling me, bitch, I'll see you later
Run to the paper just like I'm a raider
My phone out of data, I don't do no datin'
No way with the tape, I run to the paper
My bitch want a bracelet, that bitch gotta face it (ugh)
They told me, "Be patient," I ran out of patience
Rip out 'em, walking, I'm steppin' on Satan
Running these plays, gotta me feeling like paying 'em
On the way to the jeweler, young nigga go brazy, ooh
Too brazy (too brazy), Dolce Gabana my shoelaces (my shoelaces)
Two bitches and me, that's two-faces eating that dick like toothpaste (ugh)
I ride off, ride off, pay for the cab, no write off
Real nigga baby, no knock off (knock off)
If a nigga that beef, they get knocked off
458 in the bag (ugh), 2700 on the tag
Cook it, cut it, stash it
Hole in the mattress, nigga, I'ma tryna roll me a Patek
Lying way low in the alley
Nigga, we control the traffic
100-some bowls in the attic
They gon' be mad at my family
Finna go ice on my granny
I ain't even got no Grammy (trap)
Trap (trap), trap (trap)
Trap (trap), trap (trap)
Trap (trap), trap (trap)
Trap (trap), trap (trap)
Count (count), count (count)
Count (count it), count (count)
Count (it's all there), count (count)
Count (ayy), count (ayy)
If your bitch look good, then I might take her (yeah, yeah)
I just fuck 'em, nah, I don't wanna date her (yeah, yeah)
Nigga, where your cake? You look like Captain Saver (brr)
Money keep calling me, bitch, I'll see you later (gone)
Bay Bay the ambassador, partner, brr
Credits
Writer(s): Adolph R Jr Thornton, Christopher Noel Harris, Devarius Dontez Moore, Terrance Linoski Stewart
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