Quilly Millz - Trapped Out Lyrics

F*ck it I'm right in, black out in the booth
but in the streets I get that white in
Ball like, okc, thunder and lightening
get a rush form hust and they ever trap I get excited
hear it with the iceman and the soul the nigga vige in
you know I'm on the yellow when the purple light the vikings
they gonna get you sleeping out here with your asshole
rule one never fall asleep in the crack house
Kill it with the new wave 4
now I'm rapped out, if you ever go to jail
stand tall, max out can't do nothing bout the paper work

All the fact out, all my bitches trapped out,
all my niggas trapped out,
the hoes come with the money don't Worried bout em
all this bitches in my phone I don't care about em
I ball hard never said that was my bitch player
we in the car mellow you a bitch player
I Jeremy lin for the knight but then I switch player
thow ally oop to my youngie and eat a dick hater,
I swear I never snitch hater,
I'm doing time for my dogs, mike vick player
this niggas red ..I exposed dudes,
I put you on the days paper now you old news
pillow talking bout your man that's what hoes do,
I was wearing Gucci belt and O2
my connect come through in this lab
bring that snow coop
I could probably move off bitch I'm so cool
true religion Billy Jeans I'm just so smooth
I talk Billy Jean to be the bitch pro to
you walk and frown with a shit back your balls off
hit a nigga with that whistle to refall out
you'll be cuffin hoes to the trial out,
you got them bitches on locks let em while out,
I got the keys to your crib so now that's our house
no joes free bats bar, balls out
I used to have butterfly jars out
now I only got the bottle in the ..out
packed up 8 o'clock get some jam house,
I swear to God 10:30 I was all out,
real niggas in the building kick the frogs out
you with a hundred niggas cooly bring them broads out
the block doing number so the cops want us,
she don't even got my number I call from block numbers
you bitch thirsty she a dick drinker
she sold the pink and give me pain shit, big thinker
all my niggas pimp smoking, smoking as clip hangers

All my bitches bad stacy dash and they're clueless,
you ain't know, I do this true religion like a Buddhas
I ain't bring no rapper with me just me and my shooters
my bitch the author to can't to see that I'm the future
front the PG's all them bitches call me super,
and I got them bitches in my crib..to cooper,
have my niggas sitting on your crib like the roofer
and I got them bitches going crazy like the..
what's other said giving different flavors like the cool G
if you're playing role you can get yourself my movie
but if you turn Hollywood then I'ma act boojie

Thanks to Avery for correcting these lyrics

Thanks to Marcell for correcting these lyrics

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