Trap Or Die

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Tay900

Tay900 is a musical artist known for their unique style and creative approach to music. Their sound is a blend of various genres, including R&B, hip-hop, and pop. They have gained a dedicated fan base through their heartfelt lyrics and charismatic stage presence. Tay900's music often explores themes of love, relationships, and personal growth. They continue to captivate audiences with their distinct sound and captivating performances. more »

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Heard these f*ck niggas say he trappin' was dead, huh, what
Heard these f*ck niggas say he trappin' was dead, huh, what
What is you sayin'
Broke, boy, you better get off your ass
Poor bitch, you better go get a bag
Run down on a opp, put this shit on flat
Flex em, stamp him, do him bad
12 get behind you, hit the gas
Hoe ain't fuckin', she got a shag
In the Porsche Panamera, how we run out of gas
Go on a drill, cover the tags
Blicked up, switches and mags
762's turn that boy into Lamb
Goin' on block, hit my phone for a gram
Young turnt, nigga, I'ma pop my shit
These nigga, they ain't really on shit
Like a stiff, hoe, they ain't shakin' shit
Put that shit on my soul, put that shit on the six
Hold up your trophies put up your wrist
Game ain't same shit got a glitch
Nigga on a statement, nigga in a snitch
Diamonds round my neck dancing
Hit stick your pockets broke, boy, h fix it
Twelve get behind me
Doing the dash, I ain't got no license
I can't get a ticket
Turnt a deal down, I ain't signing that shit need more 250
Momma said, when you in the street, baby, keep your glizzy
Gotta keep the rod, when you ridin' cause these niggas fishy
F*ck her good, then I wake up, I want some fuckin' biscuits
When the kids sleep on like Melvin, naked in the kitchen
I don't want no food from your crib if you ain't washed them dishes
Heard these f*ck niggas say the trappin' was dead
Huh, what, what is she sayin'
Broke, boy, you better get off your ass
Poor, bitch, you better go get a bag
Run down on a opp, put his shit on flat
Flex em, stamp em, I'm doin' him bad
12 get behind you, hit the gas
Hoe ain't fuckin'
She gotta shag
In the Porsche Panamera, how we run out the gas
Go on a drill, cover the tags
Blicked up, switches and mags
762's turn that boy into Lamb
Heard these f*ck niggas say trappin' was dead
Huh, what, what is she sayin'
Broke, boy, you better get off your ass
Poor, bitch, you better go get a bag
Run down on a opp, put his shit on flat
Flex em, stamp em, do him bad
12 get behind you, hit the gas
Hoe ain't fuckin'
She gotta shag
In the Porsche Panamera how we run out the gas
Go on a drill, cover the tags
Blicked up, switches and mags
762's turn that boy into Lamb
Goin' on block, hit my phone for a gram

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