Lyrics Joey Trap - LONDON

LONDON Lyrics – Joey Trap

Singer: Joey Trap
Title: LONDON

Ooh, mm
n#gg#, ooh, ooh [London pound cake 75, n#gg#
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]
Ah, n#gg# we out in London toting on a beam
Day ones, no new friends f#ck you n#gg#s 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
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
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#gg# 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#gg#, ayy, racks baby
Flipping a brick around, I need a 10 piece

Why you leaving your b#tch alone, n#gg# don’t tempt me
You was sleep in your home, she throw top in a Benzy
n#gg# don’t want smoke, shots ’til it’s empty
I stay with a choppa n#gg#, 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#gg#
Woah, n#gg# we out in London toting on a beam

Day ones, no new friends f#ck you n#gg#s 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
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
Ooh, ooh
I’m out in London I’m thumbing up bands
Uh
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