Trap Lord season begins, now repent your sins
This Yamborghini on the motherfuckin' check-in
You know I had to hang-glide through for this one
You know, we at the all-star game right now
Eyes closed (swish) shootin' fade aways from half-court
(Elbow in the rim and all that)
(Y'all still in the D-League doing, uhh, layup drills)
Ya feel me?
Kill a motherfucka with the magnum 44
'Bout a jump snump, nigga, magnum on the road
Body full of bullets when they found him on the road
Lay a fucker down, spray it at him then reload
This that Fergie style and I be down to let it go
Semi or the tech, spray it at em then reload
This that Fergie style and I be down to let it go
Semi or the tech, spray it at em then reload
(Fergie!)
Ride Maybachs like Ross (Ugh)
550 Benz for a Tuarus
Praying for my niggas, they lost
Dyin' on things they
Ridin' on a gang that floss
Multiplyin on a that buck
Pull a 9 on anything we spark
Menage anything they horse
Pussy so good, need more
Let me get in those drawers
5-0 in the corner store
He heard all them claps with a round of applause
Spit at yo' back and your lung on the floor
Rat-a-tat-tat and you gon see the lord
action or pause
Want more sex, all in her jaws
Molly!
I'm grippin the mac and you under attack
Spit at your back and you takin' a nap
No heart a' be pumpin', your body relaxed
You talk to me dumb and that's how I react
One arm in the air like I'm waving a cap
The nine is a bitch and she makin' it clap
I'm pumpin' a fifth like I'm givin' a dap
Be ready to scrap when you talk to the Trap
(My condolences)
You are now talking to a boss
Lou bang' still ridin in the Porsche
2-thou for the wheels, they cost
White gold teeth, no floss
Young trap lord like Doss
Two bitches in the crib, no drawers
She rockin' the mic with her jaws
I call that bitch Nicki Minaj
She pop more pills no cough
When shit get real she spark
Givenchy my bitches bought
Spark that light and you niggas see God
Gettin' head in the foreign cars
Get the head from the foreign broads
Asta la vista, senor
Pussy ass niggas a see Allah
So it's like, "Fuckin' Problems, " platinum
(Bling, bling) LongLiveA$ap number one album in the country
(Bling blow) sold out tours, what's next?
Trap Lord
Let these motherfuckers have it
Let them know we ain't playing this year
The limb's never been so relaxed, ever
It's lonely at the top; all this shrimp, no one to share it with
We ain't trippin' though
Y'all walkin' 'round with wrinkled silks, looking crazy
Pay your dry-cleaning bill and all that (pay that, pay that)
Cause it's like it ain't even a competition anymore