BiC Fizzle - TrapMania lyrics

[Intro: Gucci Mane] Tay Keith, fu*k these ni**as up (1017) (So Icey Boys) (That boy Fizzle) [Verse 1: BiC Fizzle] 870, trench baby, you know the struggle raised me Being broke ain't turned me down, that sh*t just got me motivated Ivory loud, got on my sh*t and put my foot on all my haters Money stackin' up in layers, look like I play for the Lakers We gon' fu*k from 9 to 5 like this your job or I'ma trade ya I won't waste none of your time or mine, I'd rather chase some paper Trappin' too hard in the hood, I'm gettin' complaints from all the neighbors Like, "That young ni**a too hot out here, he got so many flavors" I worked hard for what I got, so I won't let no ni**a take it Water mix with my Phantom pot, it got me movin' like the matrix Know this sh*t 1K 4L, see, we got millions on the table .223 find our traces, cross that line and Fizzle face it [Verse 2: Cootie] (Shh, who's that?) It's the Cooter Grab the fork and twerk it, twist it, twirl it like some noodles I'm a big dog, fu*k I look like runnin' with some poodles? You might think this was a poolhall, just look at all these shooters It's a celebration, b*tch, another trapper made it My ho jealous, bruh, I think my plug even hatin' I'm tired of ni**as fu*kin' up, then cryin' 'cause they can't pay me They don't know who did it, but the ni**a family still hate me You can't tell us nothin', b*tch, you see we made it out them trenches In the game ballin' hard, b*tch, we finally off them benches The caption read, "We winnin'," with the trophy on the ending My girl jealous, say the Glock get more attention than extended [Verse 3: Gucci Mane] I can show you how to flip a fifty to a million I got the Midas touch, they say I'm somethin' like a magician I dropped the top, I'm chillin', now my car ain't got no ceiling Don't put your hands on Guwop or your limbs won't have no feeling CEO 'bout business, it been blushin' 'bout this pendant And you can't work the brown unless you gon' stand on the business I can't take you serious, it's all fiction in your lyrics Your rap so fu*kin' cap, not even your partner wanna hear it Straight from Arkansas, just gave these young ni**as a chance And how you call them country when my young ni**as got bands? We ballin' in Miami, yeah, I'm rockin' with the clan And I can't do no dancin', all this money in my pants [Outro: Gucci Mane] (Ha)