Lyrics:
the three-o-to-four pound
Hit a nigga dead in his wig - FUCK IT!!
Yo, too many bitch-ass-niggas think they got a lot
And I'ma dead these wannabe heads with
Best head I ever got, yo she was blonde and Turkish
Dipped in foreign fabric, feeling good, peace of mind
Machete to the hand, if you tryna take a piece
She say I ball like I'm Kobe
I bag these bitches like groceries
She ride me like a Ducati
Snap me that pussy Yo Gotti
I pull up in Rari's she wet
[Kurupt (Bad Azz)]
Yo what's up? (Aiyyo, what's up Kurupt)
A nigga feel so low that I can't come up
Dippin down the 101 blazin smoke
A trunk full
junkies
Goons big baboons
Mad at me cuz im stylin like i'm Vidal Sassoon
Got yo chick wrapped up in an R Kelly cocoon
And she turn into a butterfly in
got it on me Ima beat his ass till he purple
I don't fuck wit the news
And by the news I mean rookie niggas
I used to bully and nuggy niggas
Now I just
like I'm Rocky
Drop the bitch off in a Masi'
Feel like I'm Gotti feel like I'm Teflon
I ride around with a weapon
I got that shit that ain't stepped
she wanna be my my baby
Scotie to hottie I want me a Bentley all white like Yo Gotti
The gang be the reason why we keep on moving
No talent be wasted
Yeah I'm like Scotty too Hottie
If I buss a nigga his spiritual exit his body
It's Mike Chek TwoThree and Yo Gotti
I know we the ones it's a definite it
red I advise y'all not to press
Yo bullshit's down the loo give that shit a rest
cnd I got my wings lifted like I left the nest
(Damn) Vodka in my jeans
thinkin, I've got my reasons
Just to get (by), just to get (by)
Just to get (by), just to get (by)
Yo-yo-yo-yo-yo
Some people cry, and some people try
thinkin, I've got my reasons
Just to get (by), just to get (by)
Just to get (by), just to get (by)
Yo-yo-yo-yo-yo
Some people cry, and some people try
to zip up
You're in a bag bodied
Bodied
You've been a bad Gotti
Gotti
If I release the freestyles
You dissed half of Marion by name
Sad Gotti
You've been
Come in lets ride, chill by the tides, official vibes
Don't look surprised, you lit you fly, yo hips yo thighs
This truth or lies, I fantasize, but I
[Conversation]:
Keep everything on
Blaze always
Nigga this only nineteen thousand
(yo check this shit out)
I want my thousand dollars now
I
and jumping
I die by this shit
I ain't fearing no man
Put a stick in the air
It just got up to somethin
To these bitches I'm groovy
I treat yo hoe like
on 'em
Dope money with a band on it
Half gold, we got a hand on it
D-boys still ball the same
Just gotta little bit of glam on it
Yah
I got flames
Que te pasa, you ain't even in my clasa
I'm the wrong one to fuck with
Drive-bys in the truck quick
Fuck you, suck dick, ha
You ain't got no wins in
it'd be very difficult)
That's it, capeesh
(If I had my choice I'd rather be feared, see fear last longer than love)
Don't forget where you came
(Ayy, who that? John Gotitt)
Trap be still doin' numbers
Big Gotti still got runners
Twenty years straight no fumbles
Wildlife, nigga, from
by far in ya life
I got heroin by the balloons, kabooms and mushrooms
And my 38. specialist puttin' banker's in they tomb's
I'm one, shot, killed,
that goes by no rules
Click clack and it's over you dead
My damn glock, buss a cap in your head
It's in my blood I love killin you fools
Hey,
a nigga
On the real what want though
I worked a job , ran and mobbed , went to school while trying pump blow
Got stabbed in the back by a familiar member
did it
'Cause I thought that's how you did it, now I do it, 'cause I love it
I don't covet everything they got that I don't (ooh-ooh-ooh)
Let me
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