Thank God For The Trap lyrics

[Intro]
What you know about them nights, n*gga?
You know I'm sayin'? Ridin' 'round to the neck
Mind steady on a check, you know I mean?
Hey b*tch, you better come correct, you know I'm sayin'?
Numbers, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
Wrist dancin' like a motherf*ckin' Jabbawockee, I told you that in 2015, right?
Numbers

[Verse 1]
I'm tired of this bullsh*t (Damn), I activate beast mode (Yeah)
I wake up early (Man), the money I thug for (Money I thug for)
I'm stayin' on my toes, the streets is smirkish (Smirkish)
I stand my ground (Man), and b*tch, I'm never nervous
Block hot, still got money to make (Money to make)
7.62s jumpin' outta the K (Ooh, outta the K)
But I maneuver, 'cause n*gga, I like money and nice sh*t (Money and nice sh*t)
My swag is priceless (Man), my bag is righteous
You mad I got the b*tch (Damn), I'm havin' guap-alich (Yeah)
Your bag do not exist (Nah), you jawsin' and rappin' sh*t (Yeah)
My drawers got horses on it, b*tch, stop playin' with me (Playin' with me)
Meet me at LV (Check) and bring some bands with you (Bring some bands with you)
Don't check me, check your temperature
Head so good, she's a keeper (What's happenin'?)
I just tossed the matte on the whip (On the whip)
n*gga, twin turbo, don't trip (Don't trip)
[Chorus]
I get money and I'm never on no f*ck boy sh*t (Man)
I make songs for the bad b*tches and the real n*ggas
Thank God for the trap, I got rich off my life (Yeah)
I'm real city n*gga, let me show you how we rock, yeah
Healthy-ass n*gga with a pocket full of check (Check)
Real street n*gga, slidin' 'round to the neck (Neck)
My life really HAM, b*tch, I ain't gotta flex (Flex)
My life really HAM, b*tch, I ain't gotta flex (Flex)

[Verse 2]
What I look like complainin'? I got it out the mud
I'm a real street n*gga, it's just somethin' in my blood
When I slide through the town, n*gga push Grand Nash (Nash)
Ran into my n*gga Husalah on a Harley haulin' ass
b*tch, I'm 'bout a token, got these hoes hopin' (Hopin')
pus*y still sellin', so these hoes still goin' (Goin')
Ice man, Ice man, left wrist frozen (Ooh, numbers)
Chop by the nightstand, locked and it's loaded
These n*ggas is loafin' (Loafin'), never touched a ticket (Never)
"Larry, what you doin?" b*tch, I'm on a mission (Good job)
These n*ggas is emotional and barely gettin' chicken (Chicken)
They hatin' (Man), so they get to talkin' on the Twitter (Twitter)
I'm not in competition, I like money and bad b*tches (Yeah)
Toolie with extension in the kitchen for one reason (Yeah)
Just in case a n*gga try to jack (Try to jack)
If the paint wet, the rims gotta match
[Chorus]
I get money and I'm never on no f*ck boy sh*t (Man)
I make songs for the bad b*tches and the real n*ggas
Thank God for the trap, I got rich off my life (Yeah)
I'm real city n*gga, let me show you how we rock, yeah
Healthy-ass n*gga with a pocket full of check (Check)
Real street n*gga, slidin' 'round to the neck (Neck)
My life really HAM, b*tch, I ain't gotta flex (Flex)
My life really HAM, b*tch, I ain't gotta flex (Numbers)