Gucci Mane — Trap Talk

[Intro] Yeah, my check Yeah Gucci [Verse 1] Started out with blood money 50k in drugs on me Drop Chevy, put thugs on me Just pulled up in the club homey We just put my thugs on it Homeboy getting his mug on Hey, I wanna get my buzz on Fuck around, I'll put my gloves on Say no robbin', how I eat B.C 32, that's my street Brick Squad runners ten million deep I'm trying to sell ten billion ki's Fuck what a bitch boy say to me AK 'n AR stay with' me Mac 99 not far away my dogs don't even play with me In my apartment, 80 a piece Stack a piece, 80 G's Old school donk parked right out front Off set shots, 73 You say he's a trapper, please I hang around with a gang of thieves They probably charge 200 G's then sell your ass a sack of leaves Gucci Mane, fuck Uncle Sam Dead drunk like my Uncle Coke Touch my brother Duke and I'll cock and shoot or cut your throat Gucci Mane, fuck Uncle Sam Dead drunk like my Uncle Coke Fuck around, touch my brother Duke and I'll cock and shoot or cut your throat [Chorus] My cookers made a 50 pack, I ran straight through it Doin' numbers in my blow spot, my trap house boomin' Talkin' trap talk (Trap talk) You chop it up with me, then trap talk (Trap talk) I'm still in my trap house, aka my blow spot Got some many chops and Glock, no need to keep the door locked Talkin' trap talk You chop it up with me, then trap talk (Trap talk) It's Gucci! [Verse 2] 55 white bricks fronted to me (Fronted to me) 23 thou' 5'hunit a piece (Wow) .357 sit on top of the seats (Baow) Plus a AR-15 ain't far from my reach Got a house on flat Shoals, sell nothin' but dro Apartment on the crest, where I get off the blow Went from pan to perform to 80 a show Now 26 a shocks, sit up under the rows A nigga think he playin' with me but I play with his nose Put a hole in his chest, 'bout the size of commode I got a J that swing my door and I pay him in dope I got cutters on my team that snort, I pay them in coke It's Gucci! [Chorus] My cookers made a 50 pack, I ran straight through it Doin' numbers in my blow spot, my trap house boomin' Talkin' trap talk (Trap talk) You chop it up with me, then trap talk (Trap talk) I'm still in my trap house, aka my blow spot Got some many chops and Glock, no need to keep the door locked Talkin' trap talk You chop it up with me, then trap talk (Trap talk) [Verse 3] There's no one in the game with more swagger than this 'Cause I can score with any ho with just the flick of my wrist Diamonds sittin' on my finger cost ten brick of the sniff For this matchin' Cartiers, 20 bags of the pills You can talk and say your sick but I ain't goin' legit Try and think of the newest murder drop I'ma get (Gucci) Flow hotter than runnin' water Tattooed up like Travis Barker More swag than your baby father Wrist colder than Northern border Lang gonna get your life in order Squares don't get no likin' on Half my goons are thankin' slaughter Fuck around, find you stankin' partner These diamonds in this bitch look like newvo on my fist Shit, this all a would have twist so I keep a new bitch on my dick [Chorus] My cookers made a 50 pack, I ran straight through it Doin' numbers in my blow spot, my trap house boomin' Talkin' trap talk (Trap talk) You chop it up with me, then trap talk (Trap talk) I'm still in my trap house, aka my blow spot Got some many chops and Glock, no need to keep the door locked Talkin' trap talk You chop it up with me, then trap talk (Trap talk) It's Gucci!