Trap Shit - Intellectual

[Hook]

Trap shit that trap shit that trap shit all my niggas feel it when I talk trap shit

That trap shit that trap shit all my bitches love it when I talk that trap shit

That trap shit that trap shit say my label hate it when I talk that trap shit

That trap shit that trap shit say the blogs hate it when I talk that trap shit

All my millions is honest, I don't owe you no lies

Rap wasn't working out for me, so dope is how I survived

Mama too much debt, Daddy somewhere hiding

I wasn't out hitting club singles, I was too busy providing

Couple views on YouTube, that's how I winded up signing

Had a Digi scale in that same booth, I was doing more than just rhyming

Started back when I was sixteen, penny nickel and diming

By eighteen I climbed in, and got ten pounds off consignment

Honestly I had ten of them when Cool & Dre came to sign me

Yeah bitch I had work, and no plans on resigning

Now a nigga wanna rob me, because of how well I'm grinding

Well I'm strapped up no matter what, and I dare a nigga come try me

They think I'm some millionaire, but I'm nowhere near it

These niggas out here starving though, and they ain't een tryna hear it

He at home with his baby mama, and all five of their children

The rent due the pampers low, and she just missed her period

He flat broke and he sick of it, trying to find something to cure it

And here I go with this ballin' shit, spent forty thousand on jewelry

When your pocket low you get desperate, your judgement gets blurry

And every time you can't feed your kids, your eyes get a bit teary

Now he talkin' 'bout robbing me, and if I don't take the nigga serious

When he run up on me and draw me down, I can't do shit but look silly

Then its going on WorldStar, 'bout how I let a nigga get me

And if I am strapped and they catch me with it you say a nigga just ignorant

When I signed that record deal, the fuck I'mma do if they drop me

Buy a couple pounds of that broccoli, and turn my spot into a swap meet

They just care about hit records, they don't care if my child eat

Honestly I don't expect them to, bitch I'm a man I got me

They don't understand where I come from, two words dope money

And hate when I talk that trap shit, two more words show money

And search for that hit single, but I don't give a fuck 'bout that

I get sued 'fore they cut the check, I'm in that bitch tryna bounce back

And taking care of my baby mama, baby juvenile court

Now I'm hopping on niggas tours, just so I can afford

I ain't keeping no secrets, so ain't shit to explore

So don't worry 'bout me homie, be glad these problems ain't yourn'