Gucci Mane – Trap Talk lyrics

[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!