Lyrics:
the you that you were meant to be
So put down your anxiety, it's time to change the frequency
Let's protect that energy, just breathe
But life in plastic is
four more damn reasons why me and Stumpy better
Bitch is tI'me that you dont think that typical is Like a lesser
I got more kick then them pills up on yo
the nine
8 of them died and left 7 of them crying
For the 5th and 6th time
I'm trying to tell you dog
You done pulled through
Nigga I know that's where he
Lately I've been in a matrix, phone jumping having bag conversation
Section 8 days to some acres in a daze from the hell I was raised in
Got this Lil
toting still
I got a problem with codeine
They wanna kill me then show me
I’m in the hood by my lonely
I got it with me it’s on me
I’m really a problem I
[Chorus: x8]
This a trap
This ain't no album
This ain't no game
This a trap (trap muzik)
Welcome back to the trap
Niggas back in the trap
Indeed truly we are the mighty mighty BDP posse
This is our fourth album and we're still not takin' no shorts
Yeah, ha hah!
On the wheels
from cold night,in the morning.
'Tis the morning of my life.
In the daytime I will meet you as before.
You will find me waiting by the ocean floor,
like Sammy Gravano
It's easy, child barely an Italiano
But don't do it, she'll have your eight by ten on every channel
[Chorus]
No honey can set
the twenties
I be high like a junkie
Rich-ass nigga still hangin' in the slums
Did time with the felons
Bitch, I'm the GOAT
Hop out the Lam', then I hop in
and show these nigga how its done
Who they said was telling you ain't involved in none of that
8 time convicted felon but still be rolling with the strap
See I disperse to dope, the most convicted felon, strictly G's
No more Glock shit, rock shit, strictly ki?s
I gets my paper, I was taught by older
I don't got time to waste time but you got time to waste time for me to move my place I'm finding myself
not a soul mate I'm just saying
Penitentiary
spitting game all the time
Cause I'm labeled as a felon, S-A-T is what they yelling
Get the whole Valley crunk off them CDs they selling
Cause they love
Machine Gun Kelly is as self-effacing as he
Is talented known also
By his real name Colson
Baker, MGK effortlessly defies
Easy categorization from
the concrete
Older niggas I loved talked like they was above, maintaining a time sheet
That slow money, picked up the family business
By the age of thirteen,
shots near apartments baby drug deals on the block lately
Murder down by the bus station
But it made me wolf
Later on changed schools
8th grade had a tool
engineers and lessons
Cops ask questions by the gate no telling
Born to be felons
And I heard that you got out of jail
Clean off the money from all your
the fuck would you give a gun to R kelly?
Knowin' huggin' little girls was the
Only time he squeeze 8s
I bet you he ain't want that 38
Or that 40 cal filled
or bigger, with a figure-eight frame.
So if she fine I bet she mine, when I find time.
Man, I ain't lying, mine dames I don't wine or dine.
Like
DMC, we have a mid-thirties male found down, unresponsive
Possible overdose, substance unknown
Pulse is 60 and thready, respiration's eight
He's
My Day Ones keep me straight, fully rendered
Never skip a beat, hoodie on me
So I'm a felon, then
Looked down on 'cuz my melanin
Judged by my skin,
to constitute
What this country at times calls (yeah) their throwaway children
We seem to be approaching (come on) an age of the gross
We all have this idea
me in my feelings and I'm putting in time
And I been a bunch of places and I'm still 'bout mine
I could go and write an album 'bout a topic
Go and drop
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