Lyrics:
Bitches and thugs, spit game and throw slugs
It's the Ruler, live by, take it in blood
Cuz it's the J to the A to the death nigga what
Don't get it fucked
Already bitch
Trunk full of yay bitch, PA to H Town nigga
Get on yo' money motherfucker
It's really goin down in the South
Sweet Jones biatch!
(Uh)
Intro:
Lody da di let's have a party don't get rowdy don't bother nobody RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT
Lody da di let's have a party don't cause trouble
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,
sabatoes
Call me papa oh papa yo! Gees been robbing a bank
On a low flexing in Benz Thanks to them
I'm motivated
Yes by them ahh agggrr real chase
I'm
Ah you hear this?
Ada big belly guy I telling be talking
By my side is my version Biggie Smalls Ya?
(no question, no question)
From Brooklyn Ya!
verbals & graphic grammar
My verbal murder strech from Alaska to Alabama
Get touched by my Arm & Hammer
All across the planet niggas crumble like
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Grown ups in between, children and babies
Right about now its yo' boy, ya heard, back again DJ Mannie
Fre-fresh err fresh,
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Grown ups in between, children and babies
Right about now its yo' boy, ya heard, back again DJ Mannie
Fre-fresh err fresh,
set up shop
And then we raid the hood (raid the hood)
Rake it up bih, rake it up
Like Yo Gotti and 'em (like Yo Gotti and 'em)
Ridin' 'round town with
hood dogs sing songs of rejection and pain
If we get sunshine, it's followed up by rain
Like to lay your jig down and get a blessing of brains
My
a fuck I'm
Letting niggas know they can't hang
Don't give me no lip, don't
Give me no backtalk, yeah break North
Don't make me get my gun and
Blow your
we get it we be out here on the grind
[Kurupt]
Yeah nigga, half a days gone by
Ganstafied, givin it just up livin my life
It's hard to survive
Without
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
high, high
High, high
Let's get high, high
Come on let's get high
I make the four hop
Pull up at the spot
Weed by the barrels in my G'd up apparel
Come on let's get high
I make the four hop {*hydraulic sound*} pull up at the spot
Weed by the barrels in my G'd up apparel
Stompin' in the party,
the wack, who tryin to bite my style
Take yo ass to da old school
And part your fuckin' eyebrows
I comin' through to
About to get set
So act like WU
back
Don't talk shit watch yo back
Your body might get dragged to ceda park up in a bag
Keep heat while in traffic how I leave without a scratch
We don't
for clappin', with one hand
Talent's on my roster this mobster'll dump land
Send a gangsta to sleep two by two like bunk beds
Never leave the crib
want to jump, jump
Get'cha make ya pump, Paul
Still gon' miss ya bump, bump
Off a nigga fakin'
Goin' to a richin'
Bitches turn to shaken
Mafioso rule by
verbals & graphic grammar
My verbal murder strech from Alaska to Alabama
Get touched by my Arm & Hammer
All across the planet niggas crumble like
Block away watch by Gotti and Girvano
It's la costra nostra, someone close approach ya
They'll toast ya gopher, bread loaf with shofer
Old coke they
the mind?, toes hands and the nine
The see-through niggas get flipped like mini-pies, ??? she lies Niggas stepped on, by the way and still getting slept
Crib and he's Scotty in it
Bath tub big enough to fit a Audi in it
8 gold chains like it's already in it
Murder with the ink, I'm Gotti in it
Don't get
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