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hit Send my yougin's for to break in your crib I pay 'em double, just send me the bricks Shooter like Scottie I ain't talkin' Yo Gotti That white
Who tha Who tha realist Who tha realist Who tha realist Who tha realist It might be me I might be a problem Just Like John Gotti If I had it probably
Never realized the precious time them bitch niggas is wastin' Institutionalize, my bitches bring me product by the bundles Hustle hard from a cell,
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
mama Yo Gotti, he a hall of famer drug dealer Yo Gotti he be running around with real killers Hush gang, he ain't fronting no fuck niggas Big stepper,
with my Gz like I’m gotti C to the MZ with my Gz like I’m gotti Ima take my time ima keep goin up Keep that shxt witchu I don’t want yo luv I need
500 1s, I throw it all it follies Plug in Japan, so we kick it like karate Bad bitch from Switzerland Her daddy G o`Donnie Every time I'm on the phone
featuring DJ Rogers Puff [Intro: La the Darkman (DJ Rogers & Puff)] Yeah. Yeah. One. Two. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. (Oh) Time for
Play nothin' but that Cocaine Muzik, that Yo Gotti Tombstone ready, took shit from nobody I got a bad bitch from Vogue Told her strike a pose Step
Hey Hey Hey! Because the cops is watchin The streets is talkin Ya hoes is unfaithful ya family ungreatful Ya niggas ain't loyal you Niggas ain't
the scene with a Clip full of hollows, Put a hole in his tee He got soul 'til his face by The soles of my feet Don't get stepped on (Don't get stepped on) I
getin' weak from livin' on the streets for real Tryin' to oversee it from suites, orderin' eats At the top where the criminal minds meet That's where
papayas Before I polly Red lightin' the Bob Marley So I can cypher God bodies from the John Gotti's Everybody a voss, sayin that time's money Women
the neon streets In the retro beats, our hearts find their beats Synthwave dreams, in a cybernetic haze Chasing echoes of the '80s, in this neon maze Drive
you way different We by ourself, nobody else, not even the gang with me For you, I'd cross over the sea, you who I wanna be Every time we freak, we
on ballin' Black card nigga, I'ma Trap Star nigga, we got mob ties nigga like John Gotti Keep it coming nigga you know that we got it I'ma street nigga and we
gettin' me anxious To speak for my defendants, that say that they plaintive Guess we guilty by song, but yo the government must be on (Exodus) I mean
[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
the Eastside of Long Beach, that's 2-1 Street See we, live and die by the gun and the knife And I, high as a kite, corrallin through the night Ha ha, stackin'
up high, lets ride cause New York is back Yo, the hammer and the muzzle came together All I did was hold on to the pieces 'til the puzzle came
Last nigga tried got bodied Hit 6 times with a shotty Fed don't even know who did the body Bitch I feel like I'm John Gotti So fuck you and ya squad
it'll take em years to bite it Which the greatest fears I don't write it it just appears outta no where like da Information contain by the phycic like it
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,
your motherfucking neck nigga Got Streets in the buildin' Gotti in the buildin' KL, Fee Fee in the buildin' Rome, DI, Ceeti
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