Lyrics:
Stack it up
I tell that little hoe back it up
I get the money then stack it up
Feel like Yo Gotti I rack it up
Hoes change like the season
Niggas
take these missles
along with that, I ain't your average cat
Fuck rap, I'm tryin to make CREAM and that's that
Whatever it takes however it gots to go
Already,
Know what I'm sayin' this Birdman and this how it's goin' down,
That little youngin' Yo Gotti I certified him stamped approval
that bitch and I raise the roof
Niggas be cappin', they rat in they raps
I'm Yak Gotti, Slatt Gotti, got the proof
Big black Drac', I call that
(Chase Davis on the beat, yeah)
I need the spot with the pots and the pans (pots and the pans)
I got a stick that'll make that boy dance (make
Cash app 3 hoes, Steph Curry free throw
I just made 3 bands, spent it on a Mink coat
Girl with blonde hair but that bitch got pink toes
I won't spend
the same hoes
Me and Yo Gotti fuck the same hoes
The same hoes
The same hoes
Me and Kevin Hart fuckin' the same hoes
I'm 'bout to shoot a movie usin'
Creepin' down the back street on these
I got my glock cocked 'cause niggas want these
Now soon as I said it, seems I got sweated
By some nigga
got the strap
And when my homies see ya
You the only female they give dap
You the only nigga that I'll kiss
Make love to and still do some gangsta
(got the guap, guap)
We the ones poppin'
You been hit ya peak (you been hit yo' peak)
VVS shine like a bird, shine like a piece
I can't feel nobody (huh)
he use his name in vain? I need to know
If God were one of us (One of us)
Would he believe that he could breathe again?
Yo, yo
Now let's look
Good evening
You could be anywhere in the world right now
But you're right here with me
Nah this ain't no movie
This is real life
Gotti I got this
a party getting groupie love
She want to make me cum by the heat of her tongue
I beat it beat it beat that pussy up just like a drum
Straight shots then
that lawyer drops sentences
Huh oh
I thought a broke nigga said something
I thought a bitch nigga said something
Got my shooters out looking for red rum
and squeal)
Can you see that my hoe ain't going
I thought you was real
[Verse 1]
I got Mr. Tell It up on the phone
Disturbing peace inside my home
Tryna tell
don't need no stylist
I be on that fly shit
All this water on me dripping
I can really start a tsunami
Im living like gotti
Im living like gotti
Im
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
Green tops, boulders and bottles
Soldiers who follow leaders
You owed 'em dollars
Know that tommorrow you might not see it
Packs got knocked off by
fucking merked by some lame
Heard he got it in the Range nigga Caine popped one in his brain
Over some-thang, took his watch and his chain
Country boys
bitch, you worried bitch nigga tell yo mama put a frame on it
Know it's murder, if The Game on it
Irv Gotti with the flame on it
I'm in the coupe,
crazy,
Let that guy know,
Cat got rabbies,
Yea mac got Amy,
Shots that ready to pop and hatch like babies,
I lock the block down,
Like a jailhouse
'round this bitch, ain't nothin' safe
You know what I'm 'bout, I'm 'bout that motherfuckin' action
Lock a loose pit out the gate, broke the latches
Got
as a youngster
Gotta deal with the roof that I'm under
Even though my moms got it hard
My daddy passed away, now I'm stuck without a father
But times have
'm immortal (no)
Patek and A.P. full of water (Patek)
Hundred K, I spend on my señora (racks)
My pinky on margarine, butter (margarine)
And my ears got
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