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Search results for 'when we ball by yo gotti'

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sickening how Black Child make white people listen
We different and why'all niggas is all the same
Ya think when I ball is a game, get dumped in a hole
Child make white people listen
We different and why'all niggas is all the same
Ya think when I ball is a game, get dumped in a hole of flames
I'ma show
Gotti)
I remember my first Chevy 73'
I was 17 ridin wit a whole be
It was money green, fat boy triple gold
Tha 20's era, right when we stop ridin fo's
one saw
We played ball in the alley where dope was shot raw
And the school they kept flawed, plus the lowest test scores
Small percentage determined
sippin' DP

Regime be the team of the scream
Balls lean, hit the scene and I'm way too clean
On your radio, yo, yo

[Chorus]
I'm your radio (Turn me
[Gotti]
Yo Boo, Irv Gotti
Black, and BJ outta
Wit the f*** up here man
shit done hit the fan
Let's do dis shit man
Fo' real

[Boo]
Let's do
When you make the Kool-Aid
You put your own amount of sugar in it
Sweet, sweet love to your taste
To your own specifications
Now tell Kool-Aid,
ass, we ran right through it
You out acting like yo' shit be tight
Get some shit, fuck it off like Tamika Wright
Get the fuck out my site, I
his ass, we ran right through it
You out actin like yo' shit be tight
Get some shit, fuck it off like Tamika Wright

Get the fuck out my site, I
and say drall boppers!
We coming to get ya so get the message to all coppers
That you need protection or you better have ch'all yoppers!

What a shame when
of true felons (uh-huh)
And tell me you won't ball every chance you get (uhh, watch me)
At any, chance you hit (that's right) we live for the moment
(yo
of true felons (uh-huh)
And tell me you won't ball every chance you get (uhh, watch me)
At any, chance you hit (that's right) we live for the moment
(yo
(Come on and get up, oh, party, yeah) 

This ya boy Yo Gotti
Street Tunes Productions
We gon' ask everybody to stand up on this one
D Boys, this
[Gotti]
Yo Boo, Irv Gotti
Black, and BJ outta
Wit the f*** up here man
shit done hit the fan
Let's do dis shit man
Fo' real

[Boo]
Let's do
[Gotti]
Yo Boo, Irv Gotti
Black, and BJ outta
Wit the f*** up here man
shit done hit the fan
Let's do dis shit man
Fo' real

[Boo]
Let's do
When you make the Kool-Aid
You put your own amount of sugar in it
Sweet, sweet love to your taste
To your own specifications
Now tell Kool-Aid,
I'm Yo Gotti!

[Chorus]
Pulled up at the show
Half a brick of blow
12 pack of goose, quarter pound of dro
This bitch is sold out (4x)

We do it for
I'm Yo Gotti!

[Chorus]
Pulled up at the show
Half a brick of blow
12 pack of goose, quarter pound of dro
This bitch is sold out (4x)

We do it for
(Come on and get up, oh, party, yeah) 

This ya boy Yo Gotti
Street Tunes Productions
We gon' ask everybody to stand up on this one
D Boys, this
and ball out of control
Pop the bottle after bottle til I fall out on the floor
Surrounded by dro clouds, they be like "No smokin"
I laugh at their bitch
we be them southern playas
Remember the football socks, aerobic Reeboks and Decaturs, now
You up to par and ready fo yo lesson
I got an ounce
So I'm airport.
As I take flight,
I'm ya Air Jordan.
We the world champs.
Come and ball with us
Gotta take my time when I put my all in her.
Irv Gotti
Game back on his shit, I'm enemies with everybody
Game cook crack, transform to Yayo
The new Suge Knight nigga, minus the K, yo!
I keep
Yo nahmsayin?
Yeah she'll take you out too kid
Take this shit out

A rainy day laid up thinkin' sittin' gettin' bent
Watchin' old seventy
[verse 1]
First of all yo gotti represent every thug
Went to school graduated operated with drugs
Had knowledge went to college fucking bitches