lirik lagu london – joey trap
[intro]
ooh, mm [?]
n*gga, ooh, ooh (london pound cake 75, n*gga)
i’m out in london i’m smoking on london (ooh, huh, uh)
bai*bai*baik roll that gas up
huh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh (gelato, [?])
[chorus]
ah, n*gga we out in london toting on a beam
day ones, no new friends f*ck you n*ggas mean
8 pounds, i feel dead smoking blue dream
i’m f*cking on a lil’ bad b*tch and she a fiend uh
no i ain’t go to prom, this a stretched out limousine
we gon’ shoot ’til you read every page of this magazine
smoking on purp’ lemon lava cake, it’s gasoline
i put ya b*tch in a prada fit, she on her knees ooh
[post*chorus]
ooh, ooh (uh, uh)
i was just bagging up (uh, uh, uh, uh)
i was just bagging up grams
and i played all my cards, why you can’t see my hand
i be walking out the trap house and hop in a lamb
yes i’m gon’ tax for a brick, uncle sam
[verse]
ooh, ooh, yeah
i give hope to the streets man i feel like a preacher
man the enginе so loud swear the rari a creaturе
i know you want to cuff me but b*tch you a treesha
n*gga if you got no money don’t ask for no feature
i might just get a foreign b*tch a new visa
uh, uh (uh, uh)
n*gga, ayy, racks baby
flipping a brick around, i need a 10 piece
why you leaving your b*tch alone, n*gga don’t tempt me
you was sleep in your home, she throw top in a benzy
n*gga don’t want smoke, shots ’til it’s empty
i stay with a choppa n*gga, call me chopo
smoking on super sour grape gelato
i’m always wining go check the score, i feel like fabo
b*tch i’m the plug like i’m escobar, call me pablo, n*gga
[chorus]
woah, n*gga we out in london toting on a beam
day ones, no new friends f*ck you n*ggas mean
8 pounds, i feel dead smoking blue dream
i’m f*cking on a lil’ bad b*tch and she a fiend uh
no i ain’t go to prom, this a stretched out limousine
we gon’ shoot ’til you read every page of this magazine
smoking on purp’ lemon lava cake, it’s gasoline
i put ya b*tch in a prada fit, she on her knees ooh
[post*chorus]
ooh, ooh (uh, uh)
i was just bagging up (uh, uh, uh, uh)
i was just bagging up grams
and i played all my cards, why you can’t see my hand
i be walking out the trap house and hop in a lamb
yes i’m gon’ tax for a brick, uncle sam
[outro]
ooh, ooh
i’m out in london i’m thumbing up bands
uh
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