Beeda Weeda, Biaje - Trapper of the Year Lyrics

.Big Vito on the beat fool

Ok look Beeda Weeda

First thang first / fuck the pussy need the purse / mix the syrup in the squirt / while I fumble thru the work / first to the first ima muthafuckin jerk / you ain’t really from the hood/ ain’t no hangin on the turf / redbone bitch / she just wanna pop percs / wanna fuck a opp bitch tryna hit him where it hurts / top block shit / 28 hunnid to the dirt / to the bottom of the dubs / know the whole hood turnt / niggas really goofy & they whole hood burnt / da day you played wit me / I bet yo pussy ass learned / drop a nigga top / turn his forehead to a vert / nigga wanted clout / got his face on a shirt / ain’t a pussy on earth / worth dying for / I done took a hunnid Ls what you crying for / you ain’t neva shot shit / what you lyin for / im about drop dick on this super bad / thick ass fine hoe / trapper of the year / Hold it steady / while the police in the rear / posed to quit but I made it ca-reer / wit da shit / if he gotta low ticket / tell him bring it all here / made a thug shed a tear / i ain’t lose a single pack last year / tracking numbers / got em coming out my ears / real hustla when da game get slow / I know how to switch gears / ugh

Trap, Trap On, we got all the drugs
Trap, Trap On, we got all the drugs

Give it up give it up give it to me/ I just sold 20 whole ones and ah qp/ This d boy jewelry not rap game money/ if a nigga go down it’s cause the feds came for me/

Crossing dope over county lines pushing Them packs/ I only fuck with my nigga who be brining it back/ I gettem for 25 sellem for 28 its 32 out of state I represent section 8/ nigga I’m not tripping cause niggas like y’all gone keep on slipping/ my lil niggas still bipping I’m still in the kitchen cause my palms still itching / I’m doing 30 a day I make 200 off each and at the end of every week I’m counting 32 Gs / I’m in a wide body 392 still serving knocks nigga fuck that flu/ I’m talking runts cocaine blue cookies / I’m not ya average rap nigga so it’s hard to book me /beeda better tell em bout big bruh ima Old school nigga fucking new school bitches/ And the perfect example from going rags to riches/ I sag my britches hustling that’s what my nitch is / I’m dead smack in the heart of the murders dope dealers killahs hoes chinamens and hella burglars

Trap, Trap On, we got all the drugs
Trap, Trap On, we got all the drugs

Big Vito on the beat fool