Luyện nghe bài hát Trap Vibes (Summer Sixteen & Panda Remix)

Turn me up Cruz
I told Barcelini if them niggas hatin' they gon'
I'm up a hundred every day
You how I play!

Skinny nigga in the Benz
Swingin' through a nunchuck
bring them 30s out
Tell put the sticks up
Wait... hold up, up
How can go against us?
Cold wouldn't even shoot us
See us on 'em like a lint brush
Phil out them bandos
We ain't leavin' 'til the brick's
Couple hundred, we gon' vac 'em
Just to ride with it like a Brinks
Wait, wait, Louboutins and the bust
Bitch you claiming I done been
You ain't even gotta trip,
In the trenches in the
Fuck I even got the for?
I'm the only got one
Who the fuck I gotta hide
Barcelini shotgun
Shooters him, never mind nigga
Young niggas on Sigel
to Mack, they'll rock somethin'
Wait, wait!
North side of Philly my side of
Bulletproof whip I ride around
Niggas talk when I'm not around
Wouldn't tell you we run the city
But we movin', say we joggin' now
Hit the city and we down
Ain't no runnin' now, out of bounds
this, plug that
Niggas rappin', ain't never sold nothin'
Hold this that
I ain't lettin' niggas hold nothin'
Summertime, niggas foreign whips
You can tell the comin'
Put my name on the
All the trappers, all the bad hoes
dickridin' other niggas, that's a trend now
I'm rockin' with the same Chasers I've been 'round
Got so much work out we slim down
I'm so all my haters turn friends now
dancin' like Mike Jackson
Shit shining like Mike's
Moonwalkin' in a Royce
Through the rearview, see my backwards
Percocets, popped two 10s on a 20, now I ain't active
So wavy, nigga I rappin'
tell me that I ain't swaggin', no way

[Part 2:

This summer right here,
We up
Litted, it's
Philly!

I'm broads in Atlanta
of drugs and the Fanta
Bunch of guns in the
Spendin' like a scammer
My young niggas in the whippin'
Whippin', livin' at the hammer
Duckin' law and the
Free my out the slammer
car, panther
Shorty call, answer
20 in the mansion
Diamonds on me and dancin'
I don't understand rappers
jumpin' on bandwagons
All these bands got my pants
63s on the wagon
62s on the
Bitch I'm for the payback
62s in the pot,
Tryna whip it up and bring it way
You in the club and your cop money
All on the actin' like that you got money
We lookin' at you like you to stop money
You killin' yourself with that half a block money
I got that go to the mall and get I want paper
You the type I fall, that's what you want, hater
'Member back when I was broke? I only had one
These gon' hate you no matter you broke or you own paper
Hundred bands, up
We gettin' money, mad at us
At the buyin' more Rollies
I don't think these man enough
Fuck them niggas, shit we on 'em
Niggas, ain't got nothin' on us
Niggas that we fuck with
Run and tellin' people that we on 'em
made me put a hundred on you
Do you dirty, put the on you
never stoppin', pop, pop, pop, pop
run up on you
Dead bodies,
shot, mama cry
Cops lookin', got an
Lawyer money, nigga, buyin'
Hold! They hit my nigga in his head
Hold! him to LIV my nigga ain't dead
No! in Miami on Sunday, we did
Ho! Blowin' the racks, we at Grand
All black
bitch named Samantha
White and black, she a
and black, she a panda
Whippin' the... rock the...

I should have just run the rest...