Entrapreneur Songtext
von Central Cee

Do you know what?
The trap still running, it′s never turning off
Different product, same hustle mentality
The only difference is
You pay taxes on it and feds can't kick off your door
We put the trap in entrapreneur

We was flying up O with white, we was building lines, now it′s clothing lines
I sell tee's & my darg sell T's aswell, but his ain′t got no design
180 for the tracksuit, go somewhere else if it′s overpriced
New generation don't know how to trap ′cah they all getting high off their own supply

Trap house in the woods where the Bando's haunted, it′s supernatural, poltergeist
Witnessed things that I wish that I didn't, like crackheads overdose then die
Bad B′s curving the kid back then when I weren't so lit, I was broke them times
Bitch, would you ride on the back of the bus? What about on the front of a stolen bike?

Soho pitching coke to the gay men, I'll serve anyone, I got an open mind
No complaints when it comes to the customer service, I pick up the phone polite
See man fall in love with the white, Billie Eilish ′cah they got ocean eyes
Set up a shop, then it′s open 24 hours, we don't have a closing time


We put the trap in entrapreneur
All of the time that we spend in the field, woulda thought I got me a Ballon d′Or
I'm stacking, not dropping a bag in Dior
Went from a Toyota Yaris to Urus, I still got the same work rate as before (work rate as before)
Two years that I ain′t been home, 730 days on tour

It was Nokia ringtones, picking up phones, no private calls, now it's microphones
I think that I got bipolar disorder, the way that I′m going through highs and lows
Insta' full up of IG models and back in the day, I would these Skype these hoes
My girl try hack my iCloud, when I log in gotta hide my code

Tryna get in through face recognition when I was asleep and my eyes were closed
If she ain't got nothing to hide, might make her my wife, yeah, I might propose
How many lies got told?
Don′t belive in the hype, it′s false
Bro died, he was still in his teens
The chances are slim of me dying old

I won't lie, it′s me or them
Slime shit, I'm a wipe his nose
Unbanking packs and touching faeces, I was OT, you would find it gross
Now it′s five-star hotels, Michelin-star dining, I might rise a toast
New generation will die for clout
They'll do anything for a viral post


We put the trap in entrapreneur
All of the time that we spend in the field, woulda thought I got me a Ballon d′Or
I'm stacking, not dropping a bag in Dior
Went from a Toyota Yaris to Urus, I still got the same work rate as before (work rate as before)
Two years that I ain't been home, 730 days on tour