Trapped Out

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Quilly] Uh, fuck it, I'm right in Black out in the booth but in the streets, I get that white in Ball like OKC, thunder and lightning Get a rush from hustlin', every trap, I get excited Hit it wit the Ice, Minnesota, nigga, Viking You know I'm on that yellow and that Purple like the Vikings They gon' catch you slippin' out there wit your ass out Rule 1: never fall asleep in the crack house Killed em wit the "New Wave 4", now I'm rapped out If you ever go to jail, stand tall and max out Can't do nothin' bout the paper work, all the facts out All my niggas' trapped out, all my bitches trapped out Them hoes come wit the money, don't worry bout em All these bitches in my phone, I don't care about em I ball, I never said that was my bitch playa We in the car, mellow, you a bench playa I Jeremy Lin up for the night but then I switch playa Throw alley oops to my yougin', eat a dick playa I swear I never snitch playa, I'm doin' time for my dawgs Mike vick, playa These niggas' rats, I expose dudes, I put you in today's paper Now you're old news Pillow talkin' bout your man, that's what hoes do I was wearing gucci belts in 02 My connect come through in a sled, bring that snow through I could prolly moonwalk, bitch, I'm so cool True Religion, Billie Jeans, I dress so smooth I tell Billie Jean to beat it, bitch; Pro tools You walk around wit a shit bag, you're bows out Hit a nigga wit that whistle till' he foul out You be cuffin' hoes till' the trial out, you got them bitches on lock Let em wild out I got the keys to your crib so now that's our house No draws, free ball; balls out I used to have butterfly jaws out Now, I only got the butter and the soft out Bagged up, 8:00 at some jawn's house I swear to god, 10:30, I was all out Real niggas' in the building, kick the frauds out You wit a 100 niggas', Quilly bring them broads out The block doin' numbers so the cops want us She don't even got my number, I call from block numbers Your bitch thirsty, she a dick drinker She saw the pinky and gave me brain, she a big thinker All my niggas' piff smokers, smokers cliffhangers All bitches bad, Stacey Dash and they're clueless You know that I do this, True Religion like a Buddhist I ain't bring no rappers wit me, just me and my shooters Minus the auto-tune, can't you see that I'm the future? I run the Pj's, the bitches call me "Supa" And, I got them bitches in my crib; Mr. Cooper Have my niggas' sittin' on your crib like a Roofer And, I got them bitches goin' crazy like a Roofie My 7s sag, give em different flavors like a Coogi If you play your role, you could get inside my movie But, if you act Hollywood, then I'ma act Bouji