Q Da Fool - Trap Jumpin lyrics

Yea I heard the rumors Word around town they said "Q he ain't a shooter" Don't make me walk down with the ruger I got respect with the tec this sh** produced by lex luger How u gon disrespect the gangster I might just shoot at your uber Apply pressure to da pack n***a I ain't cooking noodles Hang wit all pitbulls these n***as hang out wit poodles Heard he flexin heard he stuntin so you know I gotta move em Da folks say hol on the block I had to get it by myself A lot a gas a lot of Molly I keep guns pace by my belt If a n***a think he cool bet this bullet make him melt Close mouths don't get fed told your b**h to help herself n***as outchea snitching on God I won't say nothing Trap house jumping junkies keep on running I done seen n***as switch up over a woman Swerve em it ain't nothing the loyalty make it something Shooters hopping out with the 40 on they hip Everybody around me serving zips and maybe bricks I don't you so don't f**ing around wit me Who goin shoot first it might be a murder scene Who gon shoot first I let these tec squirt Ima expert at letting guns work I gotta lotta money from my scale and my stove If he ain't go to jail den da n***a prolly told I done kick a couple n***as dope But I won't tell a soul Have these n***as talking ganster all these n***as ho's Talking being (??) And selling d** I even robbed some stoves n***as think Im lying n***a just go ask my folks Put his lil a** out his misery Run down with heavy artillery Trappin out largo wit PBG All dese keys ain't not symphony I punish the p**y she fearing me I hope out the jeep buss some 223's Im f**ing they hoes so they envy me The clippers real long like a centipede Pop me a bottle more energy Pouring the more my remedy Berretta 45 that's my mini me Bullet pull up in a finite (???) be cooking got recipes Heaven or hell your destiny Wildin out ain't no checkin me Ridin round with that check on me Pull up on blocks like aye They know I got that cake b**hes on me cus they know I got that money Straight drop molly turn you to a mummy Came along way from trae 5's now I got onions Now I got onions my trap be bunkin My trap be ju-ju-ju-ju-jumpin my sh** be jumpin My phone be jumpin b**hes on my line yea they straight gunkin But I ont love em I just f** em f** em I just f**em I just f** em? After we f** em what we do bro? n***a yea we duck em I be wit lions you be with rats Lil D gon get his a** Q Da Fool really play with bats You know the gang came to pop some tags Send my young n***as on his a** We get the d** and the mask If I go broke I put on the mask Trust me I won't spear my last GANG GANG GANGG GANG GANG