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letra de big glock - trapboy freddy

[intro]
and if the beat live, you know lil ju made it (yeah)

[chorus: trapboy freddy]
it’s me, glizzy, and glizzy, b-tch, i’m big glock’d up (bang-bang)
if i got my chain on, b-tch, i’m big rock’d up (yeah)
we put pressure in the city, know they want us locked up (big pressure)
they can’t do none ’bout this sh-t ’cause baby, we guap’d up (woo, yeah)

[chorus: trapboy freddy]
it’s me, glizzy, and glizzy, b-tch, i’m big glock’d up (pop, pop)
if i got my chain on, b-tch, i’m big rock’d up (ice)
we put pressure in the city, know they want us locked up
they can’t do none ’bout this sh-t ’cause baby, we guap’d up

[verse 1: trapboy freddy]
switch on this glizzy, i’m ridin’ with glizzy, we ridin’ through the city, tryna dump all these b-tches (skrrt)
my trap be jumping just like it’s a business
my mama mad i took 30 to the dentist (boy)
call ‘forе you come, n-gga, this ain’t no dentist (hol’ up)
yeah, i takе change, i ain’t takin’ no pennies (nope)
2900 on a sneaker, no skechers (ayy)
four up in a fanta, still sippin’ dr. pepper
cookin’ up the dope, i think i got a little better
i ain’t know no better, shouldn’t even have let up
young n-gga catch plays on a four wheeler (skrrt)
when i was growin’ up, i wanted to be a dope dealer (trap)
balmain jeans, n-gga, double g socks (socks)
’42 bold like my shoe size
front hold clip, n-gga, yell it two time
front hold clip, n-gga, yell it two time
[chorus: trapboy freddy]
it’s me, glizzy, and glizzy, b-tch, i’m big glock’d up (bang-bang)
if i got my chain on, b-tch, i’m big rock’d up (yeah)
we put pressure in the city, know they want us locked up (big pressure)
they can’t do none ’bout this sh-t ’cause baby, we guap’d up (woo, yeah)

[verse 2: shy glizzy]
glizzy and trapboy freddy, you know this combination is so deadly (uh)
b-tch, they call me, “jefe”, i’m a f-ckin’ boss, i do sh-t when i’m ready (jefe!)
walkin’ ’round with all these baguetties, cute italian b-tch, she only eat spaghetti (woo, ooh-ooh)
way i’m poppin’ these addys, i believe i could fly, b-tch, ain’t no d-mn r kelly (god, d-mn, god, d-mn)
hit ya’ boy for the bags, new jack city, b-tch, the way i whip them ricks (hey, hey)
pull up to my trap real fast, shoot outside the front door with that stick (bah-bah)
young street n-gga with the richard mille, when i put it on, them bad b-tches know i’m rich (richard mille)
chrome hearts with the glock, and i keep a 30 on me, somebody tell the ‘opps, “suck my d-ck”

- trapboy freddy

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