joey trap - myths lyrics
[chorus: joey trap]
i remember sellin’ all that rock
i remember postin’ on that block
i ain’t have no roof over my head
still ain’t got no roof, i drop my top
pull up, i swerve
no cup, sip syrup
i shoot 3’s, no curry
my b-tch knees, they hurt, huh
n-gg-s put some bands on my head
y’all should get refunded for your bread
make her pray to god before bed
then p-ss the b-tch to god and catch red
[verse 1: joey trap]
aye, say some sh-t on me cause i’m the kloud god
instagram @kloudgod
all this soundcloud rappin’ prolly cause i’m, cause i’m kloud god
ball until i fall out
i just found a rap game and f-cked it till she tapped out
f-ck that broke sh-t, don’t need no broke b-tch, she need her own sh-t
that i don’t spit unless you throw me a couple bones
she like, “hol’ up, i might pull up”
my necklace, yellow diamonds, i’m a sensi
oh sh-t, i’m on my old sh-t, i’m on my old sh-t
my froze wrist, my momma knows this, she said [?]
i’m skrtin’, but that not my whip, that sh-t is stolen
that’s not my whip, that sh-t is stolen
[chorus: joey trap]
i remember sellin’ all that rock
i remember postin’ on that block
i ain’t have no roof over my head
still ain’t got no roof, i drop my top
pull up, i swerve
no cup, sip syrup
i shoot 3’s, no curry
my b-tch knees, they hurt, huh
n-gg-s put some bands on my head
y’all should get refunded for your bread
make her pray to god before bed
then p-ss the b-tch to god and catch red
[verse 2: god]
i remember standin’ on that money block
movin’ packs, tryin’ not to get knocked
middle fingers to the cops, they the opps
i got a stove and a fork and a pot
yeah, i cook that work
that ain’t og, you smoke that durb
when i’m in atl, i smoke that [?]
run up on me, you gon’ get murked
i got a full clip full of hollow tips and the red dot
clientele and a lot of work, the block red hot
12 kicked in the door, now we got a dead cop
aim for the body, if i miss, i catch a headshot
now he gone, i ain’t did nothin’ wrong
i got so much work, h-ll, i need a f-ckin’ clone
and no, b-tch, i ain’t c-cky, i’m in my zone
if work ain’t what you talkin’, don’t hit my phone
[chorus: joey trap]
i remember sellin’ all that rock
i remember postin’ on that block
i ain’t have no roof over my head
still ain’t got no roof, i drop my top
pull up, i swerve
no cup, sip syrup
i shoot 3’s, no curry
my b-tch knees, they hurt, huh
n-gg-s put some bands on my head
y’all should get refunded for your bread
make her pray to god before bed
then p-ss the b-tch to god and catch red
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