Trap Life

Verse 1)
Daddy locked in cages, ghost I never knew,
Mama grind three shifts, still the fridge stay blue.
Midnight on the blacktop, streetlight my only coach,
Dribblin’ shadows, crossover ghosts, tryna ghost the roach.
Books in my left, but the block in my right,
Rules don’t pay rent when the wolves out at night.
No cap, I learned the blueprint—plug or be the socket,
Casino in my veins, bank in every pocket.
(Pre-Chorus)
Eighteen-wheeler scales just to weigh the load,
Bricks by the truck, turn the trap to a road.
Foreign whips purrin’, exotic bitches on go,
Hundred-dollar rain, week-long hurricane flow.
(Chorus)
I’m the plug for the cartel, nah, cartel’s plug is me,
Coke, meth, H, fent, every strain of tree.
Trap house, stash house, Qyat on every key,
Let ’em cook, I’m bussin’—rizz run the whole city.
Fuck slippin’, hoes choosin’, niggas stay in line,
Blueprint in my blood, I built this shit from grime.
(Verse 2)
Streetlights flicker like the hope that never came,
Mama cryin’ bills, but I’m switchin’ up the game.
From the corner to the condo, marble under feet,
Foreign bad bitch whisper, “Papi, make it sweet.”
I move weight like the wind move the hurricane,
Feds watch the whip, but the plates stay clean.
Stash in the ceiling, safe in the floorboard,
Every dollar dirty, but the hustle stay pure, dog.
(Pre-Chorus)
Eighteen-wheeler scales just to weigh the load,
Bricks by the truck, turn the trap to a road.
Foreign whips purrin’, exotic bitches on go,
Hundred-dollar rain, week-long hurricane flow.
(Chorus)
I’m the plug for the cartel, nah, cartel’s plug is me,
Coke, meth, H, fent, every strain of tree.
Trap house, stash house, Qyat on every key,
Let ’em cook, I’m bussin’—rizz run the whole city.
Fuck slippin’, hoes choosin’, niggas stay in line,
Blueprint in my blood, I built this shit from grime.
(Bridge)
Mama still prayin’, but the devil keep callin’,
Shadows on the wall look like chains I’m haulin’.
Every brick a lesson, every band a scar,
Streetlight taught me dribble, now I ball like a star.
No cap, I’m the socket, I’m the current, I’m the surge,
Plug turned kingpin, watch the whole hood merge.
(Verse 3)
From the court to the corner, from the books to the block,
Mama’s tears in my rearview, but the hustle don’t stop.
Foreign cars in the driveway, bad bitches on the yacht,
Hundred-dollar bills fallin’ like the tears she forgot.
They say I run the cartel—nah, I supply the supply,
Qyat in the duffel, let the whole team fly.
Fuck slippin’, I’m grippin’, blueprint etched in stone,
From the streetlight shadows to a king on the throne.
(Chorus – Final)
I’m the plug for the cartel, nah, cartel’s plug is me,
Coke, meth, H, fent, every strain of tree.
Trap house, stash house, Qyat on every key,
Let ’em cook, I’m bussin’—rizz run the whole city.
Fuck slippin’, hoes choosin’, niggas stay in line,
Blueprint in my blood, turned pain into shine.
Mama see the lights on, food on every plate,
Streetlight raised a king—now the hood can’t relate

Trap, rap, 
raw, versatile, and deeply emotive, blending gritty Southern rap with melodic introspection, male