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Dracos (Who TF Up In My Trap Remix)
by
NLE Choppa
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Lyrics
Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh (Think we found a loophole) Mmm, uh, mmm, mmm F**k up in my trap Who the f**k up in my trap? Who the f**k up in my trap? Who the f**k up in my trap? Who the f**k is in my trap, man? Who the f**k? Ayy (Ayy) Who the f**k outside my trap? Say he wanna cop a gram B*t*h, you better cop a P, or an ounce, or a hail He said he ain't tryna cop, rob his a**, strip him down We gon' take his car, have him on the bus, the Greyhound You don't have to be accurate when you got a hundred rounds (Brrt, brrt, brrt, brrt) Bullets hit the back of his neck, put his face up in the ground We got a hundred shots, I bet his body drop, I made him milly rock I'm servin' beef up in this b*t*h like Philly, sauce soon as we get the drop Put one up in thе head before I do thе dirt, ain't gotta cop Them choppa bullets rip the dread's bloods, leakin' on his locks We shot at sh*t, you know I'm General We don't care where you at, b*t*h, you know we finish you They say, "Lil' choppa bring what?" All them n***as know it's you So don't you hop up in my car, 'cause you know it's murder fool, yeah, yeah Catch me in the trap with two Dracos up in my lap (Ayy) And I got fiends runnin' out that want the crack like Bobby Brown (Ayy) I had a shootout, seen his body drop, I can't lie, that sh*t was really fun I don't know about you thugs (Brrt), but I really love my guns (Brrt) You see this twenty-six? It got a switch and it can hold a drum Play a Glizzy automatic, yeah, you know it's red rum Tryna sell Choppa a strap? Ayy, he gon' take your gun He seen me out and tried to give me dabs, I slapped him wit' my palm I blow exotic dope, exotic gas, you know it keep me calm (Yeah, yeah, yeah) We never stoppin', crashin' out until we see the police come He seen me, got to shakin', so I know that n***a scared of us Left blood up on the scene, but I don't think the scene was red enough So we spinned again and dropped his partner while I used the same gun He ain't make it to the doctor, b*t*h, it's DOA up in this gun Did the drill, changed the barrel, ain't no case up on this gun I dropped the opp, I made him twirl, it's ballerinas with this gun Who the f**k outside my trap? Say he wanna cop a gram B*t*h, you better cop a P, or an ounce, or a hail He said he ain't tryna cop, rob his a**, strip him down We gon' take his car, have him on the bus, the Greyhound You don't have to be accurate when you got a hundred rounds (A whole hundred) Bullets hit the back of his neck, put his face up in the ground, yeah, yeah
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