Gucci Mane - Trap Shit lyrics

[Intro: Gucci Mane] (Zaytoven) Trap sh*t Trap sh*t (Huh) Trap sh*t Trap sh*t [Verse 1: Gucci Mane] Sellin' Vin Diesel, strong Cookie, that Keisha Gucci poppin' P's like Georgia just made it legal (Wow) Higher than an eagle, leanin' like Beanie Sigel (I'm leanin') Flyer than a pilot, jean jacket by Diesel (Phew) All-gold rocket, the socket matchin' my Foamposite You's a nobody, she goin', she fu*k with everybody (Go) Lil' 'Crest boys in the hood, wanna see a dead body? Four pockets stuffed and LaFlare, we bust at everybody At Club Crucial, thеse hood b*tches, they lovе Crucial (Wow) That's my young shooter, recruit him to send some slugs through you We search 'em 'fore they come in the trap, might have a bug on 'em (Huh?) He's a walking dead man, don't know it, he got a dub on him (Yeah) Beat him with a bat, then fu*k it, pour kerosene on him Everybody searchin' for holmes, but we ain't seen homie Chainsaw massacre, call 1017 on 'em Make it look drug-related, man, pour some lean on him [Chorus: Lil Baby] Everything I rap 'bout official, I'm from the streets, b*tch (Street) Hundred thousand all my pockets, this ain't no sweet lick (Sweet) 'Nother 60K on my wrist, this a Patek, b*tch (This a Patek, b*tch) All my hoes got fat asses, they all on fleek, b*tch (They all on fleek, b*tch) All my b*tches wearin' designer, I don't want no cheap b*tch (I don't want no cheap b*tch) Draco with me everywhere I go, on the front seat, b*tch (On the front seat, b*tch) Trap sh*t, ni**as know I'm 'bout it (Wow) Trap sh*t, ni**as know I'm 'bout it (Yeah) [Verse 2: Lil Baby] Fifty racks cash on me, that's just today's profit (Today's profit) 4 Pockets Full, lil' b*tch, I ain't got no damn wallet (I ain't got no wallet) fu*k around and got in the game, I got the streets poppin' (I got 'em poppin') Pussy ni**as tellin' on me, I know the feds watchin' (I know they watchin') How the hell he gettin' this money? I keep on buyin' watches Jackboys thinkin' I'm sweet, I keep on buyin' choppers Lock me up, I'm gettin' out tomorrow, I think I'm El Chapo Bricks came 1017, I got some damn extras Flexin' on these ni**as on purpose, check out this damn necklace Dropped eighty racks on a Charger, next day, I damn wrecked it (Skrrt) Pull up with them sticks like the army, they say we young veterans They won't pull up in them apartments, they say we too treacherous [Chorus: Lil Baby] Everything I rap 'bout official, I'm from the streets, b*tch (Street) Hundred thousand all my pockets, this ain't no sweet lick (Sweet) 'Nother 60K on my wrist, this a Patek, b*tch (This a Patek, b*tch) All my hoes got fat asses, they all on fleek, b*tch (They all on fleek, b*tch) All my b*tches wearin' designer, I don't want no cheap b*tch (I don't want no cheap b*tch) Draco with me everywhere I go, on the front seat, b*tch (On the front seat, b*tch) Trap sh*t, ni**as know I'm 'bout it (Wow) Trap sh*t, ni**as know I'm 'bout it (Yeah)