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trap star - slick pulla lyrics

[intro: sl!ck pulla & dj drama]
all right what’s happenin’ n*gga?
it’s sl!ck pulla
c.t.e, man y’all already know what it is, man
what happenin’ homie?
you know what, stuntin’ on a whole lotta n*ggas
on a whole lotta sh*t, man
but you know, it’s one track ya homie didn’t get on
what he always wanted to spit his flame on, man
*cheah, cheah, cheah*
big shout out to the fourth ward
ughn hughn
for real!
shout out to the boulevard
gangta*grillz*you*b*st*rds
yeah, yeah
gangta*grillz

[verse: sl!ck pulla]
got the clean old school, call it, ‘fruit punch fanta’
big ‘shoes’ on it, yeah, we runnin’ atlanta
keep hard ‘candy’, call us, ‘jolly ranchers’
we cuss ‘twelve’ out and shoot ‘birds’ at they cameras
we trap stars, ballin’ like clyde and kidd
take a ‘elbow’ of kush, and break it down in ‘zips’
blow it all in the club, stay full of that sh*t
the kid pimp his self, the way he check that grip (for real!)
and i ain’t carmelo, but i play with them ‘nuggets’
got a scale on my lap — d*mn right i’m ‘bunkin’
poetry and motion, the way the kid get paid
jumpin’ like greenbriar mall on a hot day
that ‘jiffy’ cheffed up, that ‘glasshouse’ ready
standin’ like a food line, in front of the chevy
i got what they want — yeah, that ‘good sh*t’
take a square, break it down to dollars, a fool flip
this the ‘voice box’, c.t.e
and if you want them good deals, get them shots from me
urban street to the west, you got to feel this
catch the lil’ homie, ‘yokin’ wit’ a bad b*tch

- slick pulla lyrics

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