Entrapreneur

D'you know what?

The trap's still running

It's never turning off

It's a different product, same hustle mentality

The only difference is

You pay taxes on it and feds can't kick off your door

We put the 'trap' in 'entrapreneur'

We was flying up O with white

Was building lines, now it's clothing lines

I sell tees, and my dawg sell T's as well

But his ain't got no design

One-eighty for the tracksuit

Go somewhere else if it's overpriced

New generation don't know how to trap

Cah they're all getting high off their own supply

Trap house in the woods, where the bando's haunted

It's supernatural, poltergeist

Witnessed things that I wished I didn't

Like crackheads overdose then die

Bad B's curving the kid back then when I weren't so lit

I was broke them times

Bitch, would you ride on the back of the bus?

What about on the front of a stolen bike?

Soho, pitching coke to the gay men

I'll serve anyone, I got an open mind

No complaints when it comes to the customer service

I pick up the phone polite

See man fall in love with the white

Billie Eilish cah they got ocean eyes

Set up a shop, then it's open 24 hours

We don't have a closing time

We put the 'trap' in 'entrapreneur'

All of the time that we spent in the field

Would've thought that I got me a Ballon d'Or

I'm stacking now, dropping a bag in Dior

Went from a Toyota Yaris to Urus

I still got the same work rate as before

Two years that I ain't been home

Seven hundred and thirty days on tour

It was Nokia ringtones, picking up phones, no private calls

Now it's microphones

I think that I've got bipolar disorder

The way that I'm going through highs and lows

Insta full up of IG models

And back in the day I would Skype these hoes

My girl try to hack my iCloud

When I log in, gotta hide my code

Tryna get in through face recognition

When I was asleep and my eyes were closed

Huh

If she ain't got nothing to hide, might make her my wife

Yeah, I might propose

How many lies got told?

Don't believe in the hype, it's false

Bro died, he was still in his teens

The chances are slim of me dying old

I won't lie, it's me or dem

Slime shit, I'ma wipe his nose

Unbanking packs and touching faeces

I was OT, you would find it gross

Now it's 5-star hotels, Michelin-star dining

I might rise a toast

New generation will die for clout

They'll do anything for a viral post

We put the 'trap' in 'entrapreneur'

All of the time that we spent in the field

Would've thought that I got me a Ballon d'Or

I'm stacking now, dropping a bag in Dior

Went from a Toyota Yaris to Urus

I still got the same work rate as before

Two years that I ain't been home

Seven hundred and thirty days on tour