Lyrics:
niggas capping, they silly (huh)
I’m on the road to a milli
Verse 1:
These niggas be lame as fuck
I aint worried bout you why you worried bout me
These
the morning
I'm the gym or the jet already
Yo bitch trying to fuck
But I made my bed already
New goat boy billy want a billion
When I get Milli I'm a put
[Intro: Big Moe]
Throw, yo' hands high, wave 'em side to side
Throw, yo' hands high, wave 'em side to side
Throw, yo' hands high, wave 'em side
action, knowm talkn bout, 2201 knowm say'n
Smokin' big, drinking syrup, knowm talkin' bout
Well one time for yo mind let a playa come through
I'm sippin
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
Yo yo, you heard what happened to that dude yo
(You don't want to wind up, with your head tied up)
The nigga got his head blown the fuck out
[Ja rule (fabolous)]
(we trin' to kill these niggas)
Yo
(yea, uh huh, yea)
We in the door now
(yea)
Holla, rule nigga, with the f-a-b-o haha,
Yo
Yea, Uh Huh, Yea
We in the door now
Yea
Holla, Rule nigga, With the F-A-B-O haha, Yea
Yea
Cluemanatti
My nigga
Holla back nigga
Yea, Uh,
Jus' get yo money mayn, tha INC is runnin' thangs,
hideout wit 'Loose Change'.
An' you nigga Ima send you ta mommy...
wit strict ordas from Gotti ta hide
gon' hit yo' ass up.
You know where we comin' from
Death Row bitch Ay yo Kurupt
You first to blast nigga and you know how we do it
uh yo uh yo
Aye yo, I'm old school like Rick Ruler, sick jewels to big buddah
Lift dudes wit the six shooter luger
That means bring it back, NY
It's been a long time since you've heard from us
Dat Nigga Daz Dillinger and young Gotti Kurupt
And now we back wit a little rhyme
We can't stop
wilzzo-izzo-zee
Yo, straight up Missy killed that shit tonight for real
Ooh, I know, I know
I don't really care about her being pregnant by Michael Jackson
wilzzo-izzo-zee
Yo, straight up Missy killed that shit tonight for real
Ooh, I know, I know
I don't really care about her being pregnant by Michael Jackson
holla at yo' peoples nigga..
[Verse 1 Ja Rule]
For now on call me the don, and bicthes call me don da da
Where ever I go niggaz soon to follow'
Like
Shawty said her dream is to get cuffed by a real nigga
Sorry couldn't please you i been hiding two or three bitches from ya
Where a nigga from when
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
on that tag on yo' toe
Now who gon tell yo mother, her baby's under a cover in the morgue
Stiff as a log, sniffed out by the dogs
Son of a hard headed
hustlers naturally born
With street smarts
Yo Karate it's you and Gotti
Y'all lift the weight
Me and Noyd, a gemstar hit down on the plate
The Mobb niggas
wild west
Even the teacher got a vest (this is what I said)
You can ask, on the block, fool ? ain't the one to test
Street Jeopardy (here we go yo, here
in CB4
Set up a contest, I'm coming
I'm taking the dough
They wouldn't pick you even if you had a afro
So don't try me, you better walk by me
I'll do
and adopted
By the streets but the
Gift he brought with him to this world
Will effect our outlooks on not only
Rap music but on life as well, forever
Forever
and redirect and i won't say none
Body, body in the trunk next day he missing
Probably, probably dumped swimming with the fishes
Gotti, gotti done never left no
social distant, hoes like, "When you not trippin'?"
I duck the party, who said they saw me?
Crown on Bob Marley, wrist on Yo Gotti
They gon' judge your
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