Cam'ron - Make The Trap Say Aye Remix lyrics

[Intro: Juiceman] Aye! Aye! Ok! Ok! Juicy! Gucci! Zaytoven, zaytiggi, So Icey Entertainment [Hook:] Quarter-brick, half a brick Whole brick, aye! Quarter-pound, half a pound Whole pound, ok! 100 pills, 1000 pills, serving major weight Juiceman and Gucci Mane make the trap: “Aye! ” [Verse 1: Juiceman] I'm booming, I'm bunking, I'm serving all the babies Rap game easy but the dope game gravy Young Juice man and my life is like the J.Kidd With stupid fruity crazy swag, jumping on your lady Banana-donk Chevy interior like the Lakers LeBron James wrist when I'm f**in' with the capers Hit the trap, stay down, watch the paper Rake up, booming out the house and J asking for a waiter Half a brick, whole brick, got me buying Jacobs Bourbon shoes, walking in the head of the gators [Hook:] Quarter-brick, half a brick Whole brick, aye! Quarter-pound, half a pound Whole pound, ok! 100 pills, 1000 pills, serving major weight Juiceman and Gucci Mane make the trap: “Aye! ” [Verse 2: Cam'ron] What up OJ! Harlem came down to the South This right up my alley tho… Quarter bricks, half bricks, whole bricks… What up Gucci? What up Juiceman? This Louis belt cost 2 grand Sell a quarter key by the newsstand “Sniff that sh**, feel like a new man” Dome in the meatloaf, chrome where the seat go Bricks hammers and shovels: yeah, I'm Home Depot… Home invasion, get your home repoed “Hasta la vista! ” Adios, finito Clicko, X pills, got them for cheap, yo All y'all are chochas, you could s** my picho! Got the shotty strapped, blow your body back Sold 2 birds, spent that in Body Tap Bottle one hand, other one, pistol gripped Don't gotta shoot it: leave your a** pistol-whipped Want 10 birds? Meet me where the car's parked My spot: Wal-Mart parking lot [Verse 3: Gucci Mane] I'm t**ng birds in so we working [x3] Packing a truck, stop, a trailer back in We big, flip jugs, we tote it off the forklift The way my Blood kick you'd think he had a black belt My scale so Big, Boy can weight his damn self 2000 pounds of mid, I sold that sh** my damn self Washer full of cash, dryer full of X pills Red rag in my pocket same color my ‘Vette is My number lower than a ése from Texas A quarter mil' in the mail is an investment A sniper rifle like a soldier in the desert An Eagle on me, boy, I'm known to tote a desert I sacked an ounce up before I sold a record He want a sack I told him “meet me by the Checker's” I sacked a pound up before I sold a record He want a brick I told him “meet me by the Checker's”