Bitch, I got trap money
I'm ridin' around with that homie
Big homie told me he need it
I'm ten toes in and got my ties in my blood
Stop where that street at
I was raised there off the 1-4
Train to hustle hard and then gun talk
Got a gang of niggas and a couple bitches
I call on them, they run from me
What the fuck y'all know about goin' hard?
Stick to my ground like throwin' stars
Take a green light to a red dot
Now it's the bulls I like, I'm throwin' darts
Y'all don't want no fuckin' part
Bitch, my all bright, no fuckin' bark
I got sharp teeth and it's sharp weak
And I tear your ass a fuckin' part
Bitch, I got trap money
Bitch, I got trap money
Money, I got trap money
Bitch, I got trap money
I got trap money
Bitch, I got trap money
I got trap money
Bitch, I got trap money
I was raisin' the mud, cookin' drop on the stove top
Watchin' it bubble on a blue flame
And yo, the hustle so official, niggas never blow a whistle
Killas comin' out the woodwork for loose change
I'ma make it do what it do, man, look what the wind blew
And in that new rain, got niggas rattled like loose change
And my partners wildin' like Wu-Tang
A nigga ball so hard, motherfuckers wanna find me
And I tell y'all motherfuckers how to find me
In a brand new whip with a brick
And a bad bitch lookin' slick, drivin' down 90
Yeah, boy, I go hard for my paper
And that's why my office is spacious
And that's why that shit on my neck and my wrist
Look as if it just slid off a glacier
Bitch, I got trap money
Bitch, I got trap money
I got trap money
Bitch, I got trap money
I got trap money
Bitch, I got trap money
I got trap money
Bitch, I got trap money
Now what a motherfucker know about stamps on the brick
Enough work to supply the whole clique, nigga
West Street Kings over here, you can get in for the low
If you don't, then them prices gon' jump
That's on my soul, that shit in this package is probably worth more than diamonds and gold
That's what I'm on, that be the reason
A nigga like Ma Rainey stay with the pole
And I wouldn't try me, you better salute me
Ma Rainey came up with the trife and the grime
My hustle is priceless, pray for my dead, ain't a reason
And Marley, you try to live righteous, you die how I live
So if I get killed in these streets, then I guess it just is what it is
Ain't no tears in my waist, but my life's there in death
In the face, now I'm righteously taking my place
Bitch, I got trap money
Bitch, I got trap money
I got trap money
Bitch, I got trap money
I got trap money
Bitch, I got trap money
I got trap money
Bitch, I got trap money
Not a flash flood
Not a flash flood
Not a flash flood
Not a flash flood
Not a flash flood
Not a flash flood