Lotta Pape Lyrics – EBK Trey B
Singer: EBK Trey B
Title: Lotta Pape
If you ain’t got no pape’, b#tch, don’t talk to me (don’t talk to me)
Like the b#tch ain’t got no car, made her walk to me (i made her walk)
Model b#tch just hit my phone tryna top ricky (she tryna top me up)
The b#tch told me to bring my friend, i got joc with me (i got bro with me)
Just knocked another n#gg# off, he mad i got the b#tch (he mad i got the ho)
I’m mad i only got one pop, i’m finna drop a six (i’m finna drop a six)
You supposed to break her ‘fore you f#ck her, that’s just common sense (that’s just common sense)
Could shoot the draco with one hand, don’t got a lot of kick (it ain’t got no kick)
Don’t let me catch you on that block, i’ma pop the door (b#tch, i’m bouncin’ out)
He ain’t shoot when he was ‘posed to, gotta rob the bro (i’m breakin’ you off)
You was the driver on that skit, that is not your score (that is not your hoop)
This gon’ be a long day, we got a lot to pour (we got a lot to pour)
I can’t stand a broke b#tch that ain’t about her pape’ (she ain’t got no pape’)
I do not save b#tches, will never rock a cape (i’ll never)
I just karo’d a p and sold a lot of shake
b#tch, you better stay tuned, i’m finna drop a tape (i’m finna drop somethin’)
If you ain’t got a hundred, can’t say sh#t to me (can’t say sh#t to me)
I done spent 300k, that ain’t sh#t to me (i done spent it)
I will never let a broke b#tch get to me (i’ll never)
Everybody know trey b, he a big bully (what the f#ck?)
You see juvie, give him toolie when i pick him up (big him big toolie)
Your mans got head-tapped, go and pick him up (that n#gg# brain-dead)
Karate chop that n#gg# neck when i stick him up (karate chop him)
And i’ma crack his whole egg if you don’t give it up (crack that n#gg# in the head)
Ayy, like, b#tch, don’t show up to my house, you gotta call first
It’s fifteen guns in this trap and they all work
They tryna ask me how i get it, b#tch, this hard work (n#gg#)
The drac’ fully, when i hit him, n#gg#’s car jerked
And i don’t need no n#gg# with me, b#tch, i keep strap
These n#gg#s runners, when i seen him, he did four-flat
See, we been steppin’ on them suckers like a doormat
He put a cape behind my clique, but he got no hat
Just bought a seven-ounce of red, i’m finna pour it up
My brother popped a perc’ 30, now he throwin’ up
And if we ever bump heads, b#tch, we goin’ up
I let these n#gg#s have the net, them n#gg#s know what’s up
It ain’t no hidin’ out the way, that’s where we get dough
We sell verses, send packs, and n#gg#s send hoes
I got her droppin’ off this pack, she in the rental low
They can’t relate, them n#gg#s broke, they don’t get dough
I told the b#tch, “i’m your dream, you can’t sell me one”
Your n#gg# caught a headshot, how he holdin’ up?
It hold ten, i dropped nine, i still owe you one
He showin’ blicks in that vid’, that’s how you know he dumb
This sh#t don’t happen overnight, you gotta be patient
It’s me and bro in somethin’ fast, b#tch, we speedracin’
I can’t respect a n#gg# gangster if he made a statement
I’ma still ask about some money if the b#tch basic
n#gg#, look
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Lyrics EBK Trey B – Lotta Pape
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