BigWalkDog and Gucci Mane - Trap God

(Honorable C N.O.T.E.)
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Trap god, started this trap shit, you need to thank me (yeah)
Lil' knucklehead sun valley youngster, mama tried to spank me (mama)
My youngster shot somebody up, guess they made him angry
Two dead men right by the garbage, guess we done left 'em stankin' (yeah)
Niggas get some liquid courage when they get to drinkin' (drinkin')
His brains scattered on the dashboard, now we see what he thinkin' (yeah)
Must thought I was a ho or somethin', that's what he get for thinkin' (ho)
Better off tryna rob a bank or somethin', I call that wishful thinkin' (well, damn)
Please don't take another step, my G's gon' get to blankin' (my G's)
DOA, his mama heard the news and went to faintin' (damn)
Breaking news, we put him on the news, we made him famous (famous)
Please proceed with caution, Gucci Mane them armed and dangerous (and dangerous)
I hangout with felons, we don't never talk to strangers (no)
It's big 1-0-1-7 and I keep one in the chamber (1-0-1-7)
Lot of niggas angry that my cash went up a level (a level)
I'm burryin' money every day, I need another shovel (it's dirty)
It's an angel on my shoulder and a devil on the other one (a demon)
Turn wives into widows and my gun can kill an elephant (well, damn)
I feel like a president, do side deals like Joe Biden's son (Joe Biden)
Don't play me, play with your kids, don't have one, go and have you one, uh (hah)
I'm just havin' fun, my old flow was from Michigan
My life a lavish one, I touch down cold like Michigan
Brush you off, switch the gun, my jits went on a blick-a-thon (grraow)
We havin' NAVY guns, my trap look like the pentagon (Wop)

Trap look like a Dixie Queen, can't talk if you ain't give fifteen (come here)
I'm So Icy 1017, I'm fresh just like some Listerine
This chain right here a fifty piece, the pendant too, this fifty each
These niggas can't even sit with me, these bitches wanna get with me
Exotic bow a four-for-four, you get thirteen, you get three more
You play with us, we up the score, I should've been on Traphouse 4
Bitch I'm the shit, jet life, come on, look at this drip all on my clothes
Look at this shit stick to the bowl, I'm 'bout to break my wrist for sure, hey
Trap look like it's jumpin', I just ran up on a junkie (I did)
I can't serve no onions, you ain't pull up with no money
This shake cost fifteen hundred, I finessed for thirteen-twenty
They say bigger the wrist, bigger the lick, go get some money, hey (BigWalkDog)

(Honorable C N.O.T.E.)

Written by:
Carlton D. Mays Jr., Dajour Jamal Walker, Radric Delantic Davis

Publisher:
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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