Lyrics Joey Trap – Gotta Go
Text:
Kirk
‘Kachi, where you at?
Akachi on the beat, lil’ bitch
Look, my guy
This is how much I’ma give you
If you don’t like it then get the fuck out my face
I’m deadass tired of talkin’ to you right now
Gotta dip though, like, deadass
Come on, pick one, pick one, pick one, my nigga
Fuck you want?
I left the stove on at the crib, I gotta go
It’s Gucci on my clothes, hit the bank, I gotta roll
Yo’ girl said I’m sexy, I’m finna take her soul
I’m riding in a Lambo, a nigga on the road
I’m chillin’ on the beach, that’s prolly why I got a tan
New girl straight from Belize, ain’t got no visa, she a ten
Full price for my designer, your shit fake bro, don’t pretend
I only talk to Benji, so yeah, I got no friends
If you want a feature, yeah, you gotta pay the fee
Nigga, ain’t shit cheap and it’s def not free
Twenty thousand dollars and that’s just for one verse
I use it for my bitch, now she got a new purse
That was a Chanel bag, why it cost so much
Yeah I’m in a big Bim, yo’ bitch chokin’ blunts
With me and my big team, yeah she wanna fuck (Young Rich Squad)
A big fiend when it comes to— (You a fiend, dog) Ayy
Joey kill shit, uh, no hit list
My bitch big lips, uh, no limp dick
I’m grinding hard bitch, uh, one rip stick
Joey Gucci, no Louis
Think her ass flat, buy her booty
I might buy that, she use it
Fix a flat, my life a movie
Uh, look
Uh, wait
I’m fuckin’ up on the beat
We really came from the street
Joey will not see the defeat
Yo’ girlfriend sucking my meat
Yo’ girlfriend sucking me
Yo’ bitch been giving me head
I pull up in a new Benz
My wrist is outta Ben 10
I treat yo’ crush like a fan
You bought her flowers you mad, look
You bought her flowers, you mad
Go return those to the store
She ain’t text you ’cause she bored
Matter fact, she ain’t text you cause she sore
I’m like an eagle I soar
Flying so high on the shore
I left the stove on at the crib, I gotta go
It’s Gucci on my clothes, hit the bank, I gotta roll
Yo’ girl said I’m sexy, I’m finna take her soul
I’m riding in a Lambo, a nigga on the road
I’m chillin’ on the beach, that’s prolly why I got a tan
New girl straight from Belize, ain’t got no visa, she a ten
Full price for my designer, your shit fake bro, don’t pretend
I only talk to Benji, so yeah, I got no friends
Joey Trap is daddy
Album
Joey Trap – Trap Jack 2.5
