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trauma victims - glockboyz teejaee lyrics

[intro: glockboyz teejaee]
(if you ain’t got a beat from bam, you don’t trap enough)
bro wonder how i do it and i make
(mia jay c) come on
glockboyz, n*gga

[verse 1: glockboyz teejaee]
i know you wonder how i do it and i make this sh*t look easy
my hair nappy, but my pockets fat as h*ll, they on peezy
i know i rap, but’ll up the bl!ck and shoot, you don’t believe me?
i might f*ck around and wild out for nothin’, i been fienin’
we got thirty*two lines, that’s two pints and six spots
they tried to take my n*gga 32 out the game like 2pac
if paris told me i’m in band gang, this sh*t been gettin’ too hot
money keep on comin’ in, these bad hoes just wanna f*ck now
i told bro if i start shootin’ and i miss, just get the rebound
[?] we pull up wit’ them switches and they beatbox
forget ’bout my name, lil’ boy, ’cause i keep glock
you play around wit’ us, we see you out, then you gon’ be shot, n*gga
this sh*t gettin’ real, i wouldn’t lie to you
that’s yo’ ho? if i drop lo’, then she gon’ fly it to me
i came outside wit’ one in the head, ain’t gotta c*ck the pistol
you run up on me tryna play it, then i’m gon pop a n*gga

[verse 2: 3200 tre]
huh, she like, “why your head so f*cked?” b*tch, i’m a trauma victim
huh, i never played fifa before, i don’t got time to kick it
huh, i got sat down for a second, now it’s time to get it
huh, i forgot my bl!ck at home, i grapped my mama pistol
huh, my hair nappy than a f*ck, that’s why i keep it braided
huh, in la lookin’ for a plug, don’t care to see the lakers
huh, i’on need no handout, b*tch, you can keep the favor
huh, stack, stack, stack, flip, and repeat the stagin’
huh, i wanna my bullets hit you, so i need some tracers
if you a grown man drinkin’ liquor, you don’t need a chaser
dog said he got his own sauce, he just need some flavors
huh, my energy can start a car, b*tch, you don’t need no cables
huh, they say when [?] came out, he came to play ball
huh, he don’t just want half the pocket, he came to take all
huh, my name ring bells on the campus, i got some great soft
huh, dog tried to k!ll me, he knew i was ’bout to take off
[outro: 3200 tre]
come on, n*gga
real money counter, mine sh*t, b*tch
it’s thirty, come on
trippin’

- glockboyz teejaee lyrics

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