Top Songs By Skrapz
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Skrapz
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Skrapz
Songwriter
Lyrics
Skrapz, listen, boom, check it, Yo
Who's that dipping in the beamer
F's on my feet it's Fendi it's not Fila
If you saw my interior, you would think I got signed
Na-na-nah baby girl man I'm just a drug dealer
I be in the trap with some bricks of amnesia
Begging my connect, lemme get the bricks cheaper
I'm a hustler ask Nina with the nina
I deliver you a box to your door like a pizza
Two man deep in a black seven-seater
Three, five, seven and a nine millimetre
Bare man getting sleep up when man creep up
My niggas shoot up fam, we don't beat up
And I be in the trap sipping yak from a tea cup
Two bricks left, I think I'm ready for the re-up
Told my driver to pick me up
Bring me to my spot for my P's then I go and pick three up
Your girlfriend's dishing it out, she just free up
And I ain't even calling her phone, she hits me up
Bitches pree us all you niggas wanna be us
Paigons hiding out cah they don't really wanna see us
Cah I ride like cyclist
Teams full of more bright stars than the night is
Clip full of hollow tips just how like it
On the north circular listening to Nines getting brains off a white chick
I was on my way to the blocks I see the cops
I ain't going back to prison, so I swallowed my rocks
Better safe than sorry on the streets, you can never be sure
All I know is that prevention is better than cure
All I know about is crime, I don't follow the law
I'm tryna make my money rise like a suicide door
And I'm never stopping, straight money chopping
Couple thousand in my pocket when I'm going shopping
Nigga said he's got a spot that I could put a crop in
Told him give me couple weeks then I'ma get it popping
Yeah, I love the game, I don't really want the fame
Never gonna change, making money is my middle name
I'm in the Beamer doing 60 in the middle lane
Henny in my cup duffle bag full of silver haze
On my grind, haven't slept in a couple days
I've been going hard, I can sleep when I'm in a grave
You was chilling in your yard I was getting paid
You was chilling in the sun, and I was in the shade
You was twiddling your thumbs, I ain't on that
Four-five by my side ready for some combat
Break niggas face, make niggas call me ong bak
Shoot niggas down, I ain't inna any long chat
I've been rolling with the handgun from way back
Think I'm gonna rise the gym bag up and spray that, 'K that
I ain't got no funny niggas in my circle
All my niggas hardback like the turtles
Chilling in my yard late night, I got a bird call
Had to put my bullets in my gun and then I circled
I'm riding with a passion, all you niggas frassin'
Shoot a nigga on the mains and I ain't even gassin'
I only used a couple bullets, I was tryna ration
I don't mean a shower when I tell a man I'm gonna splash him
Everybody's on my case, I'm the latest fashion
Telling everybody wait until I get it cracking
Tryna get rich, I ain't tryna get nicked
All I know is crime I ain't never had a payslip
I'm self-made I ain't never had a wages
Posted in the trap two bricks tryna make it
I was in the trap with your bitch, she was naked
Had her on her knees giving everybody faces
It's Big Skrapz I've been killin' them for ages
That fact still remains, there's no changes
LV shoes and shirts and suede blazers
Squad famous same members no strangers
I'm about to make the roadside dangerous
Hopping out a black range with a stainless
I put a nigga in a box like a trainers
One burner, six shots, they're blood stainers
I remember growing up living kinda corrupt
Now I'm sipping grey goose kinda livin' it up
Yo, the streets crazy but the streets pays me
Disappeared for a minute now I'm back baby
Niggas played out looking like a crack baby
I swear down, all these rappers sound whack lately
I make history, lifestyle risky, heard your CD and flung that it's a Frisbee
It's Big Skrapz, I burn tracks 'til they crispy
I'm back, but for how long that's a mystery
Talking to my nigga said the streets really missed me
I ain't tryna slip but the streets kinda slippery
I shift bricks quickly jakes wanna shift me
I'm a old school G nuff-nuff spliffy
I ain't fucking with the works if the works iffy
You better bring me back my money before it gets sticky
And I ain't inna playing games I'm about money
I'm grinding even when I'm ill and my nose runny
God knows all I'm tryna do is make it
Cousin this is real life I ain't inna fake shit
I go hard, I ain't putting on the brakes yet
I ain't never wishing I had, I just go get
Sitting in the back of a cab with a rucksack
Nine millimetre nozzle where my nuts at
I'm tekkin' note, check it 'bout to meet a new connect
He might send his little pups to try and intercept
I have to light a nigga up like a cigarette
Hit him in the face and make the nigga get the full effect, boom
Writer(s): Christopher David Kyei
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