Trap Boomin

[Intro: Gucci Mane]

My trap beating harder than a bass drum(x3)

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]

These bitches eating pills like they jolly ranchers

She took a pill then turned into a belly dancer

I'm cooking up this dope with 2 fucking bowls

I need an extra hand, I needs 3 extra stoves

I can make you dance, do an avalanche

It's your final chance, get your wedding bands

I keep that white girl like a white man

East Atlanta zone 6 you in trap land

My money got a vert, my shit jump out the gym

Bitches damn near break their neck, just too look at him

She don't really like me but she love my rims

Yellow Lamborghini same color my butter Tims

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]

My trap boomin' hard, bitch I swear to God

My trap boomin' hard, bitch I swear to God

My trap boomin' harder than your trap boom

My goons countin' money in the living room

My trap boomin' hard, bitch I swear to God

My trap boomin' hard, bitch I swear to God

My trap boomin' harder than your trap boom

My goons countin' money in the living room

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]

AR's and choppers ain't no ho niggas gonna stop us

Yo ol lady so proper look at that pussy she poppin

I pull out the Rolls and make that top go to droppin

When I pull out my money

Even these ho niggas watchin

When I hit a lick it I bought a wingstop (Twenty of em)

I sprinkle lemon pepper in that re-rock

I took my time I had to build a fortress

Straight flossin and my closet look like Walter's

Step out the Benz, I got my Gucci skully on

Shout out my Nigga Gucci, know it money long

Got my bond money, I got my lawyer fee

Shout out the Brick Squad, my shoes are quarter key

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]

My trap boomin' hard, bitch I swear to God

My trap boomin' hard, bitch I swear to God

My trap boomin' harder than your trap boom

My goons countin' money in the living room

My trap boomin' hard, bitch I swear to God

My trap boomin' hard, bitch I swear to God

My trap boomin' harder than your trap boom

My goons countin' money in the living room