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"Make Da Trap Say Aye (Remix)" lyrics by OJ DA JUICEMAN
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"Make Da Trap Say Aye (Remix)"
[feat. Cam'ron & Gucci Mane]


[Intro: Juiceman]
Aye! Aye! Ok! Ok!
Juicy! Gucci!
Zaytoven, zaytiggi, So Icey Entertainment

[Hook:]
Quarter-brick, half a brick
Whole brick, aye!
Quarter-pound, half a pound
Whole pound, ok!
100 pills, 1000 pills, serving major weight
Juiceman and Gucci Mane make the trap: "Aye! "

[Verse 1: Juiceman]
I'm booming, I'm bunking, I'm serving all the babies
Rap game easy but the dope game gravy
Young Juice man and my life is like the J.Kidd
With stupid fruity crazy swag, jumping on your lady
Banana-donk Chevy interior like the Lakers
LeBron James wrist when I'm fuckin' with the capers
Hit the trap, stay down, watch the paper
Rake up, booming out the house and J asking for a waiter
Half a brick, whole brick, got me buying Jacobs
Bourbon shoes, walking in the head of the gators

[Hook:]
Quarter-brick, half a brick
Whole brick, aye!
Quarter-pound, half a pound
Whole pound, ok!
100 pills, 1000 pills, serving major weight
Juiceman and Gucci Mane make the trap: "Aye! "

[Verse 2: Cam'ron]
What up OJ! Harlem came down to the South
This right up my alley tho...
Quarter bricks, half bricks, whole bricks...

What up Gucci? What up Juiceman?
This Louis belt cost 2 grand
Sell a quarter key by the newsstand
"Sniff that shit, feel like a new man"
Dome in the meatloaf, chrome where the seat go
Bricks hammers and shovels: yeah, I'm Home Depot...
Home invasion, get your home repoed
"Hasta la vista! " Adios, finito
Clicko, X pills, got them for cheap, yo
All y'all are chochas, you could suck my picho!
Got the shotty strapped, blow your body back
Sold 2 birds, spent that in Body Tap
Bottle one hand, other one, pistol gripped
Don't gotta shoot it: leave your ass pistol-whipped
Want 10 birds? Meet me where the car's parked
My spot: Wal-Mart parking lot

[Verse 3: Gucci Mane]
I'm twerking birds in so we working [x3]
Packing a truck, stop, a trailer back in
We big, flip jugs, we tote it off the forklift
The way my Blood kick you'd think he had a black belt
My scale so Big, Boy can weight his damn self
2000 pounds of mid, I sold that shit my damn self
Washer full of cash, dryer full of X pills
Red rag in my pocket same color my 'Vette is
My number lower than a ├ęse from Texas
A quarter mil' in the mail is an investment
A sniper rifle like a soldier in the desert
An Eagle on me, boy, I'm known to tote a desert
I sacked an ounce up before I sold a record
He want a sack I told him "meet me by the Checker's"
I sacked a pound up before I sold a record
He want a brick I told him "meet me by the Checker's"

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