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Yo Gotti - Poppin / Trap Niggas Lyrics

Got a bunch of guns, but ain't shot 'em
Why ya got a bunch of guns, but ain't shot 'em?
If ya ain't got no haters, ya ain't popping
When I be in the A, I be popping
King of Compound, ask Alex, yeah
I be dead fresh, I'm stylish
If water around the house, that bitch an island, yea
Late night, got a bitch on Fallon
Brand new 'Rari wit the Rarri stripes
I be in the kitchen, I'm the chef
Dope ain't comin' back, I got to get it right
Don't make me fuck yo bitch, that pussy popping
We be balling like we hit the lotto
We some real niggas, that's the motto yea
We be in the club, where the sparklers at?!
I just sold a brick now I got bottle bread
Fell in love wit a ratchet, but get model head
Boy I got the forty it got hollow heads
And ya a yes nigga, ya a bobble head
My money out the banks and hit to Mexico
El Chapo just escaped, I'm tryna double that
Free Big Meech and Free Quint Peer, we need blessings
I'm a dopeboy, where the legends at?
I just moved to Miami wit the shottas
Shoutout to Ovatell and Ovalotta
I be wit the Haitians in Little Haiti
Caught a dirty, damn near violated probation
Called my mama from the bank, told her we made it
Bitch asked me if the pussy good, told her I hate it
And she lyin' to her friends, sayin' I ate it
But I only [?] on the head, we neva dated
If ya ain't got no haters, you ain't popping
Why ya got a bunch of guns, but ain't shot 'em?
Niggas watchin' in the closet, see you plotting
Boy ya a fuck nigga, you riding
Why ya got a bunch of guns, but ain't shot 'em?
Got a bunch of guns, but ain't shot 'em
Why ya got a bunch of guns, but ain't shot 'em?
If ya ain't got no haters, you ain't popping

This that big money shit, that executive shit
This that young nigga wit the shirt off in the Lambo shit
This that park that hoe, come back in a 'Rari shit
This that make these niggas jump off the muthafucking bridge
This that skat do all that plain jane on 'em pussie
This that have a hundred, this that motherfucking buzz down drug
That bitch hate it, this that crib look like a small mall on them pussies
And we cash that out! Yea! Ya ain't got no haters, ya ain't popping
Ya ain't got no enemies, ya ain't street
Can't be dead like a belief
We built for our luv! CMG!
Art of Hustlers
And from this day on there's no understand


Shout out to Future, I'm bumpin' Dirty Sprite
Real trap nigga, I come from a dirty life
They chargin' 30 fo' a birdie, that's a dirty price
Rob a nigga and serve him on the same night, dirty life
I come from that dirty, age 30, he was an OG
We used to shoot thousand in thou' till a nigga break me
And lord blessin' all the trap niggas
I swear to God, I hate these rap niggas
Dirty game, niggas so lame, so quick to change fo' fame
Load up some choppers soon as they mention my name
10 million dollars off a mixtape, who the fuck in my lane?
Cocaine muzik, they told me to switch up the name, nope
Coke, dope, whateva ya phrase it
Ain't goin' to make it out the hood, nigga ya crazy
I got baptized in the kitchen
Lord sent a nigga a pack of chickens
Wake up in the mornin', brush my teeth and call my plug, nigga
Send the profit re-up to my plug and show ya luv nigga
Tryna get a hundred, flood the city, I'm like done, nigga
Lambo pull up right behind the Phantom at the club nigga
Fuck what ya heard, Lord blessing all the trap bitches
When she fucking me and fucking ya, we call it our bitches
When that pussy good but the head ain't, we call 'em mall-bitches
When that pussy good and head betta, we call it loud nigga
When ya get a sack and don't front yo patnas, it ain't foul nigga
If I catch a case, then I'm goin' to fight it, go to trial nigga
If ya eva reach fo' this here chain, shit go pow nigga
Yo bitch like the Internet Safari, she on browse nigga

Whatcya lookin' fo'?
Lord blessin' all the trap niggas
Whip, whip, whip
Tryna whip a blessin' up out this motherfucker nigga
I got some extra nigga, that's a blessin'

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