This is a song about "Living out the trap house"

I remember the phone call to my house my mom kicking me out,

So all that shit you niggas kicking we ain't worried about

But i'm white, quite well off and living out within' the sticks.

Tell em they mind clippin i give em like 5 minutes

Catch me in the city with the trunk on crack

I will rise, i will get out of this trap/

Call it the trap house, i got the mouse, call it the little heater,

While his fiends for cream well exceeded the dream she once lived for

And forget about the trap,

The door crack, niggas all black

We used a andy warhol to paint the decor

You know what fuck it, walked out the living room door

Blunt smoke thicker than the dick of a black trap

All up in my jeans and i'm gunna' hit her with that

Four cuban links on my neck, trap out the hood

Yeah, inglewoodinglewood always up to no good