album cover
Trapezoid
444
Hip-Hop/Rap
Trapezoid was released on July 11, 2025 by Nicholas Craven Productions as a part of the album Late to My Own Funeral
album cover
Release DateJuly 11, 2025
LabelNicholas Craven Productions
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM81

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Nicholas Craven
Nicholas Craven
Programming
Boldy James
Boldy James
Rap
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Nicholas Craven
Nicholas Craven
Songwriter
Boldy James
Boldy James
Lyrics
James Clay Jones III
James Clay Jones III
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Nicholas Craven
Nicholas Craven
Producer
Roberto Viglione
Roberto Viglione
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Two-way, deuce, siete
227
Fifty-fifty
Rippin', slicin' bricks open with box cutters, no 50 Tyson
In a minno, sellin' all these pints without no liquor license
Pistol clutchin', catchin' all the pops who be whiffle-dustin'
Runnin' up the cards, handin' off, hundred miles we crunchin'
Unc'y nose runnin', it look like he comin' down with somethin'
Sellin' all these bumps to the head, shit like a mild concussion
I once was lost, but, I found it, I owe it all to Siri
Supreme crack Air Forces out the Playboy Amiris
More the merrier, too much poison berry had me short of breath
'Noid to death, love is null and void like a voided check
Circle tight as gnat pussy, square-dancin' ****, you a daddy's boy
If I was a shape, I'd be a trapezoid
AP like an octagon, countin' up these rectangles
Rock out like Rick Rubin, all these Cubans on my neck tangled
Bangle on her right wrist, anklet on her left ankle
He know she with me, 'cause she be postin' from her best angle
Last night had the time of my life, brodie cracked the seal
I rarely step out, when I do, no less than half a mil'
Too drunk to let you hit my blunt, too high to pass the blill
Stressed out from the street shit, 'cause a **** really trap, for real
We really trap, for real, this shit really track and field
Really slap them bricks and 'bows, hit the road and traffic pills
We really trap, for real, this shit really track and field
Still in the hood lookin' like I inked a platinum deal
T-Tops on the Monte, brand new G-lock and a hottie
Lil' Bloody stone runnin', run with Tree Tops and the Bounties
Keep that quicker picker upper, keep that yee shit far from 'round me
**** never knew I rapped, I never freestyled in the county, you know
We keep the money in the family like it's incest
Ain't no paperwork on no **** I run with, that's a big flex
Seen all fifty shades, but this a different gray
I done shot so many ****, I know my day comin' any day
Seen it all, been through it all, what can I say?
My pops ain't had to take care of me since the day a **** ran away
Anyone who know me know this ain't my first rodeo
Rollie on my wrist, I never had a Joe Rodeo
These **** Laffy Taffy wrappers, that mean they been a joke
Whole city know a **** push a mean envelope
We ain't buyin' that shit that you sellin', bad nights in McClellen
It's Game Time, ConCreatures, 227
Last night had the time of my life, brodie cracked the seal
I rarely step out, when I do, no less than half a mil'
Too drunk to let you hit my blunt, too high to pass the blill
Stressed out from the street shit, 'cause a **** really trap, for real
We really trap, for real, this shit really track and field
Really slap them bricks and 'bows, hit the road and traffic pills
We really trap, for real, this shit really track and field
Still in the hood lookin' like I inked a platinum deal
What else?
Written by: James Clay Jones III, Nicholas Craven
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