BiC Fizzle, Gucci Mane and Cootie - TrapMania

(Tay Keith, fuck these niggas up)
1-0-1-7
So Icy Boyz
That boy Fizzle

8-7-0, trench baby, you know the struggle raised me
Bein' broke ain't turned me down, that shit just got me motivated
Ivory loud, got on my shit and put my foot on all my haters (uh-huh)
Money stackin' up in layers, look like I play for the Lakers (well, damn)
We gon' fuck from nine to five like this your job or I'ma trade ya
I won't waste none of your time or mine, I'd rather chase some paper (see ya)
Trappin' too hard in the hood, I'm gettin' complaints from all the neighbors (woo)
Like, "That young nigga too hot out here, he got so many flavors"
I worked hard for what I got, so I won't let no nigga take it (no)
Wock' mixed with my Fanta pop, it got me movin' like the Matrix
Know this shit 1K 4L, see, we got millions on the table
.223 find our traces, cross that line and Fizzle face it (boom)

(Shh, who's that?) It's the Cooter (haan)
Grab the fork and twerk it, twist it, twirl it like some noodles (woo, skrrt)
I'm a big dog, fuck I look like runnin' with some poodles?
You might think this was a poolhall, just look at all these shooters (damn)
It's a celebration, bitch, another trapper made it (yeah)
My ho jealous, bruh, I think my plug even hatin'
I'm tired of niggas fuckin' up, then cryin' 'cause they can't pay me (fuck outta here)
They don't know who did it, but the nigga family still hate me (what?)
You can't tell us nothin', bitch, you see we made it out them trenches (no)
In the game ballin' hard, bitch, we finally off them benches (go)
The caption read, "We winnin'," with the trophy on the ending
My girl jealous, said the Glock get more attention and extension (go)

I can show you how to flip a fifty to a million (yeah)
I got the Midas touch, they say I'm somethin' like a magician (voila)
I dropped the top, I'm chillin', now my car ain't got no ceiling (pew)
Don't put your hands on Guwop or your legs won't have no feeling (damn)
CEO 'bout business, it been bloodshed 'bout this pendant
And you can't rep the brand unless you gon' stand on the business (business)
I can't take you serious, it's all fiction in your lyrics (damn)
Your rap so fuckin' cap, not even your partner wanna hear it (wow)
Straight from Arkansas, just gave these young niggas a chance (yeah)
And how you call them country when my young niggas got bands? (Racks)
We ballin' in Miami, yeah, I'm rockin' with the clan (go)
And I can't do no dancin', all this money in my pants (Gucci)

Haan

Written by:
Brytavious Lakeith Chambers, Jeremiah Northern, Kamyar Karimi, Radric Delantic Davis, Randarius Caruthers

Publisher:
Lyrics © 1KLAN MUSIC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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