trdee – trapped in my bag 2 lyrics
[intro]
(f+ck the fire, we got grease)
(it’s a wayne beat)
i’ve been in my bag since, what?
twenties, what’s that? 2020?
[?], come on
i feel just like grayson allen, all these bucks on me (all these bucks)
can’t believe you call that (man, what?)
can’t believe you call that drip, you looking so bummy
chilling out the way, gettin’ head from a snow bunny
think you think i’m finna wrestle with you, i ain’t seein’ punk
ridin’ with a foreign in the foreign, engine in the trunk
we gon’ score it every single time, ain’t no need to punt
all i wanna do is run it up, turn to forest gump
high as h+ll, green on me, feel like peter pan
hit the b+tch so good, she had to put it on her onlyfans
why they still sleepin’ on me like they took a xan’?
on the flight to tokyo, it’s a day until i land
i just touched down like a wide reciever
unc’ and [?] in the kitchen, he still got his beeper
if she doin’ somethin’ new, it’s ’cause i had to teach her (i did)
put that stick in his mouth like he got a fever
had to put him in the box, he like little caesars
i can’t let them know my moves, it’s like f+ck a blinker
b+tch took her shoes off and put on some stinkers
we gon’ catch him lackin’ like a episode on cheaters
left the set and now i’m flock just like aladdin
i can’t f+ck that b+tch ’cause who the f+ck has it?
all my b+tches cold like a beauty pagent
make his money dissapear just like i know magic
all you do is talk behind that screen, vlad tv
feel like john cena, n+ggas really can’t see me
in kahoots with the owner, i don’t need no id
no cap, countin’ money really do excite me
i was down bad, think i don’t track like a subway surfer (get it?)
b+tch, you talkin’ to the boss, i am not no worker
i was in the bed with two friends, made ’em kiss each other (mwah)
all for the times that i had to suffer
strap my nuts on, i had to toughen up (i did)
it’s a lot of fun all up in my cup (ahh)
baby, i’m the one, i’m never runner+up
i just caught a play in la, i feel like cooper kupp
thought that we was bros, but it feel like you hatin’ on me, though
yeah, i’m lookin’ bummy but i got some paper on me, though
sick i had to confiscate your b+tch, now come and get your ho
we finna pass her back and forth, baby, a give and go
still trapped in my bag, i ain’t been out in a minute
shot clock cheese, before the night ended, you know i hit it
sick your money runnin’ short, we call that a midget
i don’t teach taekwondo, so no, we can’t kick it (nope)
[outro]
b+tch, ayy
i don’t teach tae+ (yeah)
can’t kick it
real sh+tty boyz sh+t
b+tch
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