Lyrics:
on the dick
Stand up on yo toes
Slowly rub yo tits
Slightly bite yo lip
Slow it down a bit
By now he fighting back
He bout to let it rip
Jump off catch it with
makes a thug
Presidential fire
The same charges Gotti went through
It's mental, them open door trials sent you
White lights, cagey mics, wild press
I'm
yo bring the wack on
I load the mic up and bust like a mack 10
While my DJ go wild, do a backspin'
Kick 'em down, one two, flights of four stairs
Crashed the Bugatti (skrrt-skrrt)
Crashed the Bugatti (skrrt)
QC murder ain't no Gotti (QC)
Shh, don't tell nobody (ayy)
We ain't tryna rob, that's just
duct tape
Me, I just make sure they stomp like crush grapes
I make the hardest shed a tear
Give 'em a gun, if I had two right here
Two over there,
you nigga,
I got the 40/40 made by two jiggas,
I make you "Holla, Holla", I Ja Rule niggas!
The lion's in the room, what up Fat Joe?
I'm Curtis'
hit the boat and take a shower
Head back to the airport, and hide the money in the tower
Stack blocks by the keys
L to the O to the X you'll see
the border & they meet me every quarter
Touching on my body, know he fucking with a hottie,
The DM Yo gotti, said he wanna hit the party
Fucking with a dolly
to the face
Come put your face in my lap
Come take a seat and relax
I'm done blowing wood now I'm ready to smash
She climaxing first while I'm finishing last
gotta turn these Boys II Men
Naughty By Nature, cause by nature I'm naughty
Fool, you better ask somebody
Yeah
Yo-Yo, 199-Trey
Givin' a knock-out
Throw, yo' hands highhh wave 'em side to side
Throw, yo' hands highhh wave 'em side to side
Throw, yo' hands highhh wave 'em side to side
Throw, yo
about they cockin' back, bustin' guns
Knowin' damn well heat is on deck, you cowards run
Hated by many, yo we loved by few
You ain't gotta like us homie
seat and quiet is kept
And hold your big fat butt steady
Cause yo hoe I got the paper bag ready
She started moaning and gobbling like a turkey
I
seat and quiet is kept
And hold your big fat butt steady
Cause yo hoe I got the paper bag ready
She started moaning and gobbling like a turkey
I
yo bitch and you ain't getting her back
Fuck on that bitch and I nut on her back
Hit that bitch in the seat of Maybach
Hit that bitch in the seat
to rumble well get up shit
If you buck you get fucked by that nigga named Chuckwick
Aw shit my nigga Ganksta Nip in the motherfuckin' house
Yo Nip say
Rolling up that Christmas tree you should see me wrap it up
Got a coupe with two seats you should see how bitches lap it up
Think they like that gotti song
leavin' out this bitch til after two sum'n
Man, why yo crew frontin'?
Y'all ain't gon do nothin'
All these ladies in here, and y'all tryna prove sum'n?
chick, got me feelin' like Yo Gotti
Put my mouth on it, start suckin' the soul out it
Fuck a key, on private jets, tell nobody
Nobody, nobody, not you,
and call yo` bluff
Ignore a fool, that`s what they holler
Snatch his bootsy a** up by the collar
Law enforcement agents got me and my dudes up under
on new
And you can ask swift gotti
Don't shit get by me
Ask tommy showtime if I did my time
And you can ask L Dog if I ever felt y'all
And ask rock jock if
call yo crews
3-4 Need to lock yo doors
5-6 Better loaad yo clips
7-8 Time to meet yo fate
[Verse 2 Pimpstress]
Some of yall niggas aint wit this,
Well
racks over here
No cap over here
Gold cap in yo ear
2 cups by the bed
No rags over here
Durag’s in yo head
Gold chains on the neck
2 shots on yo head
If Pirus and Crips all got along
They'd probably gun me down by the end of this song
Seem like the whole city go against me
Every time I'm in
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