Trap House by Murk Lyrics
[Chorus: OG Skitz]
Beamers, Benz and Jags at my trap house
Bitch, I got that bag at my trap house
Ain't nothin' but real niggas in my trap house
And if they don't know, get up out my trap house
[Verse 1: Caskey]
Get the fuck out of my trap, yeah
Get the fuck out of my trap, yeah
I'm a real hustler
I spend my money just to go and make this shit back, yeah
I tell her, shorty yo' pussy look good
Sit that shit right on my lap, yeah
She think that my dick, that my strap, yeah
I hit it twice, ain't comin' back
I got a fetish for makin' lettuce
Get a hard dick when I'm thumbin' through the check
She tryna fuck me now
Told her, I gotta go, I got funds to collect
I'm in the vet, not my house
Jacket smellin' like I just smoked an ounce
Cashier see the withdraw amount
Now she wanna be my spouse (whoa)
I'm too married to the money (yeah)
I'm too married to the money (yeah)
Seen y'all bank account
What, y'all scared of the money? (woo)
I'm workin' double overtime
On the percocet, hate the sober grind
I'm in the trap house tryna serve the city up
'cause you know it's mine
I'm at yo' bitch house tryna give her pipe
'cause she love to blow my mind
I serve the 8ball, anything pop
They gon' make me show the nine
I'm in a 6 Series, with a five piece
Po' a fo' and slow the time
Wait, you smoke that gas in the city
Then you smokin' mine
[Chorus: OG Skitz]
Beamers, Benz and Jags at my trap house
Bitch, I got that bag at my trap house
Ain't nothin' but real niggas in my trap house
And if they don't know, get up out my trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
[Verse 2: Nikko McFadden]
Get the fuck out of my trap
Say that's your dog, he a rat
I got two stripes on my back
When I'm to bat, there's no holding back
Swing for the fence like a monster
Pussy boy, yeah, you prob'ly need a tampon
Bitch, you want a couple skirts and a romper?
My homie only like a dyke with a strap on
Bein' broke don't last long, the cash gone
Everybody get your back when you back on
When you shine, they want it to overcast on
Guess it's only right do they ass wrong
Hustlin' for that Draymond Green
Ask the city who was poppin', they gon' say my team
You ain't like me
Take a loss, bounce back, yeah, c'est la vie
I've just been keepin' it real
Free all my homies that's stuck on the hill
All of my day ones, they fuck with me still
You hate from the bleachers, we stay on the field
You ain't never seen a hunnid thou cash
But your pockets really quiet with your loud ass
Boomerang to Colorado for loud pack
Snow hills got your girl goin' down fast
She want me to hit like a crash dummy
'cause I'm messin' with Cash Money
Reppin' that 605 everyday
Boy, you cannot take that from me
We gettin' high, they just hate on the low
See me out and give dap to me
Cereal box full of guap, if you not talkin' knots
Then you gotta get back to me, it's Nikko
[Chorus: OG Skitz]
Beamers, Benz and Jags at my trap house
Bitch, I got that bag at my trap house
Ain't nothin' but real niggas in my trap house
And if they don't know, get up out my trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
[Verse 3: Murk]
Trap boomin' like 9/11
My Jay jumpin' like Mike
My clique house full of blunt guts
And empty bottles of Sprite
My phone jumpin' like Kriss
My pump jump if you cross
Got a digiscale, if niggas tell
I'm shootin' shit, no talk
Got wax all in my dab pen
Jordan Craig put a strap in
When I park, I back in
Got a booth in the trap I rap in
I remember way back when
I needed places to shack in
Now I'm eatin' like Pac-Man
And niggas tailin' like back end
Real trappin' like Jeezy
Hot Boy like [?]
Ridin' 'round with that big mac
Two extra clips, that's cheesey
Trap queen, she work
Got about a half a thing in her purse
She kept it real when niggas didn't
That's why I call her Ms. Murk
Ten niggas deep in the freak house
Ten different packs, so the geeks out
Frog work, get jumped
It hit the block and it leaped
These niggas take cheap
Bruh, that money talk and you know it
So to keep it real, we ain't gotta tell you
We trappin', nigga, and you know it
Beamers, Benz and Jags at my trap house
Bitch, I got that bag at my trap house
Ain't nothin' but real niggas in my trap house
And if they don't know, get up out my trap house
[Verse 1: Caskey]
Get the fuck out of my trap, yeah
Get the fuck out of my trap, yeah
I'm a real hustler
I spend my money just to go and make this shit back, yeah
I tell her, shorty yo' pussy look good
Sit that shit right on my lap, yeah
She think that my dick, that my strap, yeah
I hit it twice, ain't comin' back
I got a fetish for makin' lettuce
Get a hard dick when I'm thumbin' through the check
She tryna fuck me now
Told her, I gotta go, I got funds to collect
I'm in the vet, not my house
Jacket smellin' like I just smoked an ounce
Cashier see the withdraw amount
Now she wanna be my spouse (whoa)
I'm too married to the money (yeah)
I'm too married to the money (yeah)
Seen y'all bank account
What, y'all scared of the money? (woo)
I'm workin' double overtime
On the percocet, hate the sober grind
I'm in the trap house tryna serve the city up
'cause you know it's mine
I'm at yo' bitch house tryna give her pipe
'cause she love to blow my mind
I serve the 8ball, anything pop
They gon' make me show the nine
I'm in a 6 Series, with a five piece
Po' a fo' and slow the time
Wait, you smoke that gas in the city
Then you smokin' mine
[Chorus: OG Skitz]
Beamers, Benz and Jags at my trap house
Bitch, I got that bag at my trap house
Ain't nothin' but real niggas in my trap house
And if they don't know, get up out my trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
[Verse 2: Nikko McFadden]
Get the fuck out of my trap
Say that's your dog, he a rat
I got two stripes on my back
When I'm to bat, there's no holding back
Swing for the fence like a monster
Pussy boy, yeah, you prob'ly need a tampon
Bitch, you want a couple skirts and a romper?
My homie only like a dyke with a strap on
Bein' broke don't last long, the cash gone
Everybody get your back when you back on
When you shine, they want it to overcast on
Guess it's only right do they ass wrong
Hustlin' for that Draymond Green
Ask the city who was poppin', they gon' say my team
You ain't like me
Take a loss, bounce back, yeah, c'est la vie
I've just been keepin' it real
Free all my homies that's stuck on the hill
All of my day ones, they fuck with me still
You hate from the bleachers, we stay on the field
You ain't never seen a hunnid thou cash
But your pockets really quiet with your loud ass
Boomerang to Colorado for loud pack
Snow hills got your girl goin' down fast
She want me to hit like a crash dummy
'cause I'm messin' with Cash Money
Reppin' that 605 everyday
Boy, you cannot take that from me
We gettin' high, they just hate on the low
See me out and give dap to me
Cereal box full of guap, if you not talkin' knots
Then you gotta get back to me, it's Nikko
[Chorus: OG Skitz]
Beamers, Benz and Jags at my trap house
Bitch, I got that bag at my trap house
Ain't nothin' but real niggas in my trap house
And if they don't know, get up out my trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
Trap house, trap house, trap house, trap house
[Verse 3: Murk]
Trap boomin' like 9/11
My Jay jumpin' like Mike
My clique house full of blunt guts
And empty bottles of Sprite
My phone jumpin' like Kriss
My pump jump if you cross
Got a digiscale, if niggas tell
I'm shootin' shit, no talk
Got wax all in my dab pen
Jordan Craig put a strap in
When I park, I back in
Got a booth in the trap I rap in
I remember way back when
I needed places to shack in
Now I'm eatin' like Pac-Man
And niggas tailin' like back end
Real trappin' like Jeezy
Hot Boy like [?]
Ridin' 'round with that big mac
Two extra clips, that's cheesey
Trap queen, she work
Got about a half a thing in her purse
She kept it real when niggas didn't
That's why I call her Ms. Murk
Ten niggas deep in the freak house
Ten different packs, so the geeks out
Frog work, get jumped
It hit the block and it leaped
These niggas take cheap
Bruh, that money talk and you know it
So to keep it real, we ain't gotta tell you
We trappin', nigga, and you know it