Refills Lyrics – Trapo
Singer: Trapo
Title: Refills
Woke up on the fake grass
I’m the real thing in the same world
I ain’t trying to replace much
Just the bankruptcy
And fake smiles and the sh#t i used to call the war room
I would make time for the b#llsh#t
For the same old i would waste life
Tell myself it’s only in my head
I don’t want to {?} one event
Voice try’n talk you off the ledge
I wish i could switch up on the time
Light a benjamin as close as i’ma get
Different trips get to other sh#t
Like rеally cop the house instead of scouting it
{?} i knеw there was a way to make it outta hell i had discovered it
They tell me, “n#gg# once you find a path you might feel marvelous”
Or for a life time
Live my life and feel a privilege
Like i was living pale
Everybody live in color now
Everybody know a dance move
You ain’t really had to learn nobody
Everybody know a handshake all fascination
Since it won’t get you assassinated
Like, “i love my brother but i gun him down”
For the wrong sign throw upwards
And we keep it all on the hush cause it’s an “us” thing
Building prescriptions to pop sh#t is real
Close my eyes i just wanted to chill
On the real i just can’t get no peace
Oh my mind it ain’t warn me for real
So for real, so for real
Go outside and they roaming around
On my right, on my left, in my head
Close my eyes i say, “where are you now?”
And if i’m alone i’ma chill
Never too relaxed, always in control
Let a n#gg# say sum slick
This a weird time, we don’t act chill
We don’t lack, bones in the back room
To this black benz in a dream
Stay till i’m up, calling a cab home, home
Let somebody say sum slick
What a say my politic won’t stop me grabbing n#gg#s by the collar
Ain’t no million dollar sh#t i’m on some scholar sh#t
But from the bottom
sh#t i write a scholarship for n#gg#s all the way out from the bottom
Quit that sipping sh#t out baby bottle
On your jump ball (lay back)
No pump (draw that)
Don’t front (fall back)
All you n#gg#s trigger fingers silent fingers
We don’t look to eradicate the final stages of this sh#t
I ain’t tryna play a n#gg# friend
Starving and i can’t give a damn
All for the motive of celebrity and i was never born to fitting in
Boy this sh#t a won’t get you assassinated you’s a f#cking poster child a pageant baby
This ain’t glamour ratchet
I can’t glamor-ate em
Now i ain’t photoshop this gold metal sh#t
Ooh
Prayed i lived all i could
Say i’ll empty i’ll empty this bottle and quit it for good
Hit the road, glory here i come
See you this dance like the {?} of the sun
Building prescriptions to pop sh#t is real
Always, always, feel like i’m going through sum
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Lyrics Trapo – Refills
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