Trap House Lyrics – Lil Wayne
Singer: Lil Wayne
Title: Trap House
[Verse 1]
Oh yeah little Tunechi got it jumpin’ like Jordan
These p#ss# #ss n#gg#s can’t guard me
These rookie #ss n#gg#s still crawling
These lookin’ #ss n#gg#s eye ballin’
These hooking #ss b#tches eye balling
But I got a bad b#tch at home cooking dinner
Hi honey, I’m home, I’m starving
These crooked #ss cops still winning
Black mad family still mourning
Black president ain’t do nothing
We need a real n#gg# up in that office
Got the White House jumping like Jordan
Got the crack house jumping like Jordan
I want my new house bigger than Jordan’s
With a backyard bigger than the forest
Like “ooh!” bear I’m jumping like Jordan
Hoes at the door and they arguing
This dick is a super star, they want stardom
My life like Bailey and Barnum
These b#tches ain’t got no manners
These n#gg#s ain’t got no standards
My b#tch ain’t got no love handles
Boy I’m clippin’ that toe on that camel
I got b#tches that’ll kill for me, Charles Manson
Suck this thuggish ruggish bone, swallow that bone marrow
Chopper sitting on my lap like the mall Santa
n#gg# shoot you all in your gall bladder
Your pallbearers need pallbearers
I’m mixing weed like gumbo
I knock your head-off rambo
Homeboys be cutthroat
That sh#t got me with a lump throat
But Tunechi bigger than Elvis Presley
Young Money was my best investment
Going harder than my predecessor
I don’t break records, I set records
Lil Tunechi got me back like Kobe
n#gg#s stab me in the back I owe ’em
Got a house on the hills
Now a n#gg# gotta deal with mountain lions and coyote
See me? I keep that Semi, and friendly? I can’t be friendly
Freckles them bullet holes look like freckles you look like Wendy’s
Cops in the hills jumping like Jordan
I can’t swim but I’m throwing pool parties
Got a b#tch over there and a b#tch over there
A young n#gg# starting to feel cornered
My LA house jumpin like Jordan
My Miami House jumping’ like Jordan
Can’t forget about my house in New Orleans
So, sorry for the wait, I’m sorry
I want my new b#tch t#tt#es enormous
With a backyard and a pretty garden
With a p#ss# more pink than an orchid
Young n#gg# gonna treat her like a florist
I got my side b#tch feeling important
I got my main b#tch feeling immortal
I got my ex b#tch feeling insulted
Cause wifey get money like Kimora
I got a fine b#tch feeling exhausted
Cause I’mma put this dick on her till tomorrow
I’mma pull up on a b#tch in a Gallardo
Then I’mma take the top off like a barber
I go down and kiss, I Pearl Harbor
She’s so down with this New World Order
f#ck the sh#t outta her in a sauna
Sweat her hair out, she look like Al Sharpton
Got a goon named Fernando
At the front door of your Condo
Knock knock, who’s there? He don’t care, he’s physco
Bad b#tch with a nice throat
She ice cold and she likes hoes
OOoh, she just my type
These other hoes just typos
Young n#gg# coming back like Jordan
So sorry for the wait, I’m sorry
Yeah, a n#gg# had to go back to the stash
But a n#gg# stache like James Harden
Young n#gg# drink lean like water
Young n#gg# smoke weed like Marley
Young n#gg# on the moon like Warren
Young n#gg# on his sh#t like a charmin
My b#tch got a rack like Dolly Parton
f#ck her all night to some Marvin
Fall asleep in the p#ss# good lordy
Woke up in a new Bugatti good morning
Young n#gg# got guns goodluck
Nina ross say me so h#rn#
Lil Tunechi at the top its so lonely
Got bad pockets never-roni
I’m with a model b#tch she so bony
Got to shook shoot up its so foamy
I just cooked this up its still hot
You could still smell the kitchen on me
n#gg# I have your homies singing damn I miss my homie
I got a mountain of weed
I got a mountain of cash
I got mountains like Wyoming
I got a bad b#tch and she foreign
She always mad with me I sorry
She say damn why you can’t call me
Cuz they be taxing for that roamin’
She a tan b#tch she orange
I can’t stand a snitch an informant
n#gg#s cook crack on a Forman while you all boys was still sparing ohh
This that Sorry for the Wait 2
Tell the dead homies you pray to you’re on your way too
That the truth is hard to swallow you got fake juice
Even Slick Rick the ruler know I break rules, ohh
Got the gas out shootin’ like Jordan
I put your homeboy face on a t-shirt
And put your own face on a milk carton
Busy, I’ve been so busy
Ain’t even have time for quickies
That’s why my b#tch been so b#tchy
I’m outchea tryin’ to get me
I’m coming back out jumping like I’m Jordan
I’m sorry for the wait I’m tardy
I wrote a letter to my competition
It started off with dearly departed
Hippie I be so trippy
Give her p#ss# a hicky
I hope she ain’t strictly dickly
So we can menage to Nicki, ohh
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Lyrics Lil Wayne – Trap House
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