Trap Artist Lyrics

Niggas ask me how I get this money shit I tell it's easy

Be committed to your plan and neva doubt the breeshy

Diamonds cutting the wrist it's dancing like Chris breezy

I can make a mill in my sleep, I make 200 weekly

Track hawk racing out the hood they want to get like me

Bullets get the tagging on yo ass you made the channel three

I got to Chanel at the crib you gotta wait two weeks

We some bread winners we be trapping out some damn jeeps

Ain't no sleazy's over here she like the shooters nigga

Back in 5th grade I was a freak I fucked the tutor nigga

Gucci flip I fucked yo hoe you got no future nigga

Before I had dubs I was a L, I had to lose a nigga

Brodie talking tuff he turn around and 'em hit the ground

Speaking on the dead gonna get you shot they coming out the ground

Oh we missed that nigga? We turn that bitch around

Brodie making plays for himself but it wasn't worth a pound

That's the thing wit these niggas, they need some street knowledge

Neva fuck a hoe that's real known they got some real mileage

How I get rich in two months I neva needed college

All my niggas run the city bitch, man we stay flawless

You can't be fronting the gram I know your truth Nigga

You was lil D in 5th grade you followed rules Nigga

You couldn't stand to get trouble you was to cool nigga

Now I gotta knock you off your feet and make you drool nigga

All these fake gangstas, they so brunt out

Neva hit a lick so why you thinking wit your gun now

Got this white boy from the D he run a eight mile

Really run this shit I get locked up it's gonna be a mistrial

Man rip to George Floyd he was a real one

If I ever ask for a bitch for some brain bitch imma need one

I'm solid till I die you asking me I ain't seen none

Pockets heavy to the ground yeah it weigh a ton

In the party we lit, she like to henny me

She know I got them racks she begging put the dick in me

Old friends knocking on my door, do you remember me?

Breeshy put on for the city I got some mini me

All this shit is the truth breeshy love them blues

No Nancy drew in bitch but she even couldn't find the clue

Throw a block party we spinning like a dance crew

Money standing tall man Shaq couldn't even dunk on dude