TrapMania
BiC Fizzle
GENRE
[Intro: Gucci Mane]
Tay Keith, fuck these niggas up (1017)
(So Icey Boys)
(That boy Fizzle)
[Verse 1: BiC Fizzle]
870, trench baby, you know the struggle raised me
Being broke ain't turned me down, that shit just got me motivated
I breathe loud, got on my shit and put my foot on all my haters
Money stackin' up in layers, look like I play for the Lakers
We gon' fuck from 9 to 5 like this your job or I'ma trade ya
I won't waste none of your time or mine, I'd rather chase some paper
Trappin' too hard in the hood, I'm gettin' complaints from all the neighbors
Like, "That young nigga too hot out here, he got so many flavors"
I worked hard for what I got, so I won't let no nigga take it
Water mix with my Phantom pot, it got me movin' like the matrix
Know this shit 1K 4L, see, we got millions on the table
.223 find our traces, cross that line and Fizzle face it
[Verse 2: Cootie]
(Shh, who's that?)
It's the Cooter
Grab the fork and twerk it, twist it, twirl it like some noodles
I'm a big dog, fuck I look like runnin' with some poodles?
You might think this was a poolhall, just look at all these shooters
It's a celebration, bitch, another trapper mania
My ho jealous, bruh, I think my plug even hatin'
I'm tired of niggas fuckin' up, then cryin' 'cause they can't pay me
They don't know who did it, but the nigga family still hate me
You can't tell us nothin', bitch, you see we made it out them trenches
In the game ballin' hard, bitch, we finally off them benches
The caption read, "We winnin'," with the trophy on the ending
My girl jealous, said the Glock get more attention than extended
[Verse 3: Gucci Mane]
I can show you how to flip a fifty to a million
I got the Midas touch, they say I'm somethin' like a magician
I dropped the top, I'm chillin', now my car ain't got no ceiling
Don't put your hands on Guwop or your limbs won't have no feeling
CEO 'bout business, it been blushin' 'bout this pendant
And you can't work the brown unless you gon' stand on the business
I can't take you serious, it's all fiction in your lyrics
Your rap so fuckin' cap, not even your partner wanna hear it
Straight from Arkansas, just gave these young niggas a chance
And how you call them country when my young niggas got bands?
We ballin' in Miami, yeah, I'm rockin' with the clan
And I can't do no dancin', all this money in my pants
[Outro: Gucci Mane]
(Ha)
Tay Keith, fuck these niggas up (1017)
(So Icey Boys)
(That boy Fizzle)
[Verse 1: BiC Fizzle]
870, trench baby, you know the struggle raised me
Being broke ain't turned me down, that shit just got me motivated
I breathe loud, got on my shit and put my foot on all my haters
Money stackin' up in layers, look like I play for the Lakers
We gon' fuck from 9 to 5 like this your job or I'ma trade ya
I won't waste none of your time or mine, I'd rather chase some paper
Trappin' too hard in the hood, I'm gettin' complaints from all the neighbors
Like, "That young nigga too hot out here, he got so many flavors"
I worked hard for what I got, so I won't let no nigga take it
Water mix with my Phantom pot, it got me movin' like the matrix
Know this shit 1K 4L, see, we got millions on the table
.223 find our traces, cross that line and Fizzle face it
[Verse 2: Cootie]
(Shh, who's that?)
It's the Cooter
Grab the fork and twerk it, twist it, twirl it like some noodles
I'm a big dog, fuck I look like runnin' with some poodles?
You might think this was a poolhall, just look at all these shooters
It's a celebration, bitch, another trapper mania
My ho jealous, bruh, I think my plug even hatin'
I'm tired of niggas fuckin' up, then cryin' 'cause they can't pay me
They don't know who did it, but the nigga family still hate me
You can't tell us nothin', bitch, you see we made it out them trenches
In the game ballin' hard, bitch, we finally off them benches
The caption read, "We winnin'," with the trophy on the ending
My girl jealous, said the Glock get more attention than extended
[Verse 3: Gucci Mane]
I can show you how to flip a fifty to a million
I got the Midas touch, they say I'm somethin' like a magician
I dropped the top, I'm chillin', now my car ain't got no ceiling
Don't put your hands on Guwop or your limbs won't have no feeling
CEO 'bout business, it been blushin' 'bout this pendant
And you can't work the brown unless you gon' stand on the business
I can't take you serious, it's all fiction in your lyrics
Your rap so fuckin' cap, not even your partner wanna hear it
Straight from Arkansas, just gave these young niggas a chance
And how you call them country when my young niggas got bands?
We ballin' in Miami, yeah, I'm rockin' with the clan
And I can't do no dancin', all this money in my pants
[Outro: Gucci Mane]
(Ha)
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