Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Trap Back’ by 2 Chainz. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of 2 Chainz or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Listen to fun niggas
Let em’ know I’m still up in here been poppin’
Do so many shows in arenas my nigga I need me a locker
Look at my car
How did they get on them sixes
This flow come from Drizzy
He got it from Migos, they got it from Three 6
Look at my bitches
Look at my wrists
Realest nigga in the game
My nigga ain’t no counterfeitted
Bitches is thick and delicious, doing they dishes
100 Million on my wishlist
Taking penitentiary chances
Just to drink lean in them benzes
2 Chainz!
I want my trapback
I said that I want my trapback
I’m from the apartments, used to walk around with work in my backpack
G’s all up in that shit
G’s all up in that bitch
Drunk calling me by my government
Running shit, gunning shit, shopping in London and loving it
I think we’ve had enough here
I needed someone to, wait shut your mouth
Shut shut, shut your mouth
I’m sorry what did you just say? You’re just commin’ off as stupid
I’m coming off as stupid?
You’re wearing tuxedos to a job that requires you to clean bathrooms
Please leave this office, we’re done with this interview
Do we get any sort of souvenir?
Get out of my office!
I want my trap back
I said I want my trap back
They sayin’ that money talk
Nigga so you already know that I want my cash back
You niggas ain’t talking about shit
Harley Levin
You would’ve thought that there was some kilos on my bus and they did find a thing
Hair looking like Brillo
My flow Armadillo
Catch me first class, and belted with Versace all in my pillow
I bet I seen a kilo
The dope my hero
Remember I had that Box Chevy I set that bitch on some three zeros
You know that I’m rocking Buscemi
And I’m as raw as sashimi
Her head is so cold my nigga I think that she gon’ need a beanie
Rolling and smoking zucchini, dropping the top on the whips
Making them look like bikinis
I am now balling so hard
I should be on my own box of Wheaties, oh