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NLE Choppa - Who TF Up in My Trap Lyrics



NLE Choppa - Who TF Up in My Trap Lyrics
Official




Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh (think we found a loophole)
Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm

F*ck up in my trap
Who the f*ck up in my trap?
Who the f*ck up in my trap?
Who the f*ck up in my trap?
Who the f*ck is in my trap, man
Who the f*ck, ayy (ayy)

Who the f*ck outside my trap?
Say he wanna cop a gram
Bitch, you better cop a P, or an ounce, or a half
He said he ain't tryna cop, rob his ass, trip him down
We gon' take his car, have him on the bus, the Greyhound
You don't have to be accurate when you got a hunnid round
Bullets hit the back of his neck, put his face up in the ground

We got a hundred shots, I bet his body drop, I made him milly rock
Servin' beef up in this bitch like Philly sauce
Soon as we get the drop
Put one up in the head, before I do the dirt, ain't gotta cop
Theses choppa bullets ripped his dreads, blood's leakin' on his drop
We shot at shit, you know I'm General
We don't care where you at, bitch, you know we finish you
They say, "Lil' choppa brang what?" How them niggas know it's you?
No, don't you hop up in my car, 'cause you know it's murder, fool, yeah, yeah
Catch me in the trap with two Dracos up in my lap
And I got fiends runnin' out that want the crack like Bobby Brown
I had a shootout, seen his body drop
Can't lie, that shit was really fun
I don't know about you, thug
But I really love my guns
You see this twenty-six? It got a switch and it can hold the drum
Your Glizzy automatic, yeah, you know it's redrum
Trynna sell Choppa a strap? Ayy, he gonna take your gun
He seen me out and tried to give me daps
I slapped him with my palm
I blow exotic dope, exotic gas, you know it keep me calm
We never stoppin', crashin' out until we see the police come
He seen me, got to shakin', so I know that nigga scared of us
Left blood up on the scene, but I don't think the scene was red enough
So we spinned again and dropped his partner while I used the same gun
But he ain't make it to the doctor, bitch, it's DOA up in this gun
Did the drill, changed the barrel, ain't no case up on this gun
I dropped the opp, I made him twirl, it's ballerinas with this gun

Who the f*ck outside my trap?
Say he wanna cop a gram
Bitch, you better cop a P, or an ounce, or a half
He said he ain't tryna cop, rob his ass, strip him down
We gon' take his car, have him on the bus, the Greyhound
You don't have to be accurate when you got a hunnid round
Bullets hit the back of his neck, put his face up in the ground, yeah, yeah

Nigga, NLE the Top Shotta
I've been a problem but I seen him through the dogs, bitch (Who?)
Huh, yeah, you know we on that shotta shit
Hit it, ain't no politics, bruh, you get hit then
(Who the f*ck is, who the f*ck is)
Uh, uh, no cap
(Who the f*ck is, who the f*ck is)
(Who the f*ck is, who the f*ck is)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


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Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh (think we found a loophole)
Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm

F*ck up in my trap
Who the f*ck up in my trap?
Who the f*ck up in my trap?
Who the f*ck up in my trap?
Who the f*ck is in my trap, man
Who the f*ck, ayy (ayy)

Who the f*ck outside my trap?
Say he wanna cop a gram
Bitch, you better cop a P, or an ounce, or a half
He said he ain't tryna cop, rob his ass, trip him down
We gon' take his car, have him on the bus, the Greyhound
You don't have to be accurate when you got a hunnid round
Bullets hit the back of his neck, put his face up in the ground

We got a hundred shots, I bet his body drop, I made him milly rock
Servin' beef up in this bitch like Philly sauce
Soon as we get the drop
Put one up in the head, before I do the dirt, ain't gotta cop
Theses choppa bullets ripped his dreads, blood's leakin' on his drop
We shot at shit, you know I'm General
We don't care where you at, bitch, you know we finish you
They say, "Lil' choppa brang what?" How them niggas know it's you?
No, don't you hop up in my car, 'cause you know it's murder, fool, yeah, yeah
Catch me in the trap with two Dracos up in my lap
And I got fiends runnin' out that want the crack like Bobby Brown
I had a shootout, seen his body drop
Can't lie, that shit was really fun
I don't know about you, thug
But I really love my guns
You see this twenty-six? It got a switch and it can hold the drum
Your Glizzy automatic, yeah, you know it's redrum
Trynna sell Choppa a strap? Ayy, he gonna take your gun
He seen me out and tried to give me daps
I slapped him with my palm
I blow exotic dope, exotic gas, you know it keep me calm
We never stoppin', crashin' out until we see the police come
He seen me, got to shakin', so I know that nigga scared of us
Left blood up on the scene, but I don't think the scene was red enough
So we spinned again and dropped his partner while I used the same gun
But he ain't make it to the doctor, bitch, it's DOA up in this gun
Did the drill, changed the barrel, ain't no case up on this gun
I dropped the opp, I made him twirl, it's ballerinas with this gun

Who the f*ck outside my trap?
Say he wanna cop a gram
Bitch, you better cop a P, or an ounce, or a half
He said he ain't tryna cop, rob his ass, strip him down
We gon' take his car, have him on the bus, the Greyhound
You don't have to be accurate when you got a hunnid round
Bullets hit the back of his neck, put his face up in the ground, yeah, yeah

Nigga, NLE the Top Shotta
I've been a problem but I seen him through the dogs, bitch (Who?)
Huh, yeah, you know we on that shotta shit
Hit it, ain't no politics, bruh, you get hit then
(Who the f*ck is, who the f*ck is)
Uh, uh, no cap
(Who the f*ck is, who the f*ck is)
(Who the f*ck is, who the f*ck is)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Bobby Reese, Bryson Potts, Jeffrey Page, Joe Cooley, Jordan Houston, Patrick Houston, Paul Beauregard, Rodney Oliver, Theodore Thomas
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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