a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de sentiments freestyle - trapstar toxic

[verse]
getting older with the time, that’s suttin i can agree
just gave my young gun a pack, he’s up more early than me
you’re out here tryna be the boss of the streets
i’ll back out a couple racks right now, don’t mix my name up with deets
cause i ain’t got time for making amends
plug saw my work rate, now i’m no longer a serve, i’m a friend
cutting out the middleman like take your first to the river b
haters want my downfall, wanna boo me like i’m heavy d
still i keep going, i’m whipping it or bagging suttin potent
youngers on the strip, that’s some vultures
we were trapping in the winter, n-ggas bitter cause i’m on my grind
paid in full, i don’t need to do consigns
couple hours on my graft, a couple bands in my jeans
attract this money like a dog with the fleas
copped them bricks, told my young gun “cop a febreze”
neighbours smelling suttin mental, that’s the essence of trees
half these trappers ain’t chatting to me
i’ve taken l’s, your man couldn’t agree
bounced back and held faith like the deen
stay focused, i ain’t giving it up
you know i grind, i ain’t living it bruck
i took a loss, i bounced back like a trampoline cuz
friends don’t wanna see me doing well, the karma got me feeling all stuck
going jail was like a blessing in disguise
had the strip on the wing, more than ten of my guys
got it cracking, you ain’t drawing for your nine
so you better be good with your fists or have a cheffer on the side
this as real as it gets, halal meals and it was h-lla baguettes
you know me, i weren’t breaking a sweat
cah there was times when i felt that sh-t was going wrong
had me tryna talk to the sky like mufasa’s son
reason with god, i’m out here tryna get these funds
how ironic, counting twenty to some kojo funds
copped a box, now you think you’re the plug
me, i’m all about them numbers
that won’t do my line no damage if i threw it a box
me and p up in the kitchen catching losses and prof
in due time we’ll be the chefs of the mob
becah the judge has taken nuff of my g’s, i can’t rate it
i left jail, they told me “keep rapping and make that playlist”
the ends is full of hatred
i seen bruddas getting busses, they just throw it back in faces
me and you, we ain’t the same pr-ck
them balmain’s and louboutin’s but my re-up’s like your savings
please don’t get me started on them other guys
fam i’m in my own lane, i sacrifice
i touched out on the second, that’s three bands prof by the seventh
a real trap star in your presence, fam i’m getting it gone
i ain’t chilling round bums like a thong
pockets swollen like i threw him some thumps
i’m in this trackie, yo we looking rough
from way back i was fully on job
if we felt a violation, we were running to the stash for the dots
i remember days tryna find me a plug
i was drowning and consistent, now i’m getting enough

- trapstar toxic

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS