Tramp Lyrics

Whatchu call me? (Tramp)
Whatchu call me? (Tramp)
Whatchu call me? (Tramp)
Whatchu call me?

Home girls, attention you must pay
So listen close to what I say
Don't take this as no simple rhyme
Because this type of shit happens all the time
Now, what would you do if a broke nigga came by?
Would you f**k him or would you deny?
Shit, it ain't like he don't know what we like
Just a little bit of ice, carats straight for life

Then maybe we could talk about us 'f**kin' tonight'
69 no change, in the back of the range, calloway edition
Is ya'll muthaf**kers still pushin' expeditions?
Won't catch a bitch like Na Na rollin' in 'em
Small thing, bitch we own things
Give a f**k if my ice colors orange or sky blue
I f**k with you
(Tramp, tramp, tramp)

1 - Whatchu call me? (Tramp)
Whatchu call me? (Tramp)
Whatchu call me? (Tramp)
Whatchu call me?
(Tramp, tramp, tramp)

Whatchu call me? (Tramp)
Whatchu call me? (Tramp)
Whatchu call me? (Tramp)
Whatchu call me?
(Tramp, tramp, tramp)

T-R-A-M-P, get the f**k away from me
Cuz if you get too close I'mm have my folks
Put ya’ll in emergency

Gimme some room, all ya'll niggaz wanna dig in my womb
Don't even know me, wanna f**k my friends?
Give me head, drive my Benz
Spendin' lately make me wanna f**k yo' friend
Smack yo' bitch, take yo' 6, crash yo' shit
Leave you numb, make me come, five more times
Need five mo' bottles to get my shit wet
You ain't even suck the tits yet, shit
Break me off, clothes come off, show me love
Let me hold somethin', freak you off
f**k you right, then sneak you off
Now I’m straight, (bein' broke), I'm 'bout to breeze off

Repeat 1

And these broke niggaz got some nerve
They be frontin' in the club with they man furs
Five niggaz on one bottle of Cris'
Then he talkin' me to death, f**k you takin' this
Whether he friend or foe', gotta stone my lobes
Matter of fact, f**k that, nigga ice my toes
And whatever bitch you f**k, bet I’m twice them hoes
And I want my pussy licked, after all my shows

It's not a game, that I does my thing
And if it ain't light gray, betta be on ya way
And if my stones ain't blue, no ass for you
And if my ice ain't red, then you deaded some head
All you tryin' to do is take Na Na to the Telly
Phattin' up my belly, then lock me down, never that
I ball till the day I croak, bet that, gimme that

Repeat 1 until fade

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Songwriter(s): Gabriel Roth, Inga Marchand, Jamaal Barrow, Phillip Lehman, Tyrone Fyffe, Victor Axelrod
Record Label(s): 1999 Violator Records LLC
Official lyrics by

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