Lyrics:
The nobody who dreamed about bein' somebody
Chief rocker at the party
And they was hangin' like, "Yo, I'm your man
I don't even care about the ring
This is a world, world, world, world world world
Premier, premier, premier, premier
[Erick Sermon]
Yo, yeah, Def Squad baby, what?
2002, yeah
in your life
Can you ever get with this
(DJ Paul)
Hey yo kemosabe
I got hoes smokin' weed up in the lobby
Cocaine fills my body, like gotti
Hotty
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
down
You gettin' like a hundred worth for real, man
Eh yo, thug niggas know the code, lock and load
Hit 'em in the head, watch a nigga brain explode
and jumping
I die by this shit
I ain't fearing no man
Put a stick in the air
It just got up to somethin
To these bitches I'm groovy
I treat yo hoe like
Yo, the saga begins, begin war
I draw first blood, be the first to set it off
My cause, tap all jaws, lay down laws
We takin' what's yours, we do
Busting niggas brain yo, for fucking with my game ho
Then leave yo ass chained tho, in the the middle of your yard.
I'ma pull yo car, for actin' hard,
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
For all those Nino Brown niggas (yeah)
John Gotti niggas, know what I'm saying (yeah)
Niggas trying to run shit (trying to run the game)
Don't know
the man them are on tour
I could tell by her eyes that she wants more
The eyes don't lye, I know what I saw
How you blushing and you don't even know me
Now
on yo list
Pretty sure it was Cole, Drake, Larry June, me and Spitta
By the time you hear this, it be, early Yesvember
Wrote this verse on October first
Yo man, you gotta be, you know
You gotta be on to die, man, what's up with that?
Yo bro-shot
Yeah, word up bro-shot
Uh, we need some brothers
Yo man, you gotta be, you know
You gotta be on to die, man, what's up with that?
Yo bro-shot
Yeah, word up bro-shot
Uh, we need some brothers
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?
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
do cuz God got me
Trippin' off who!?, nobody
Know "Men Lie, Women Lie"
That's big facts, word to Yo Gotti
Tryna leave behind a legacy and get Ricch
away with a Genevieve
(And I'm gone)
As my driver, better be a Nnaji
Baptized by the Genovese and the Gottis
Mob ties, so you gon be sleeping with
to me
I got Bobby by the pound, Whitney by the key
DJ Screw by the gallon, bitch the game belong to me
Man I pull up in your city and get my Bush
smash your Benz windows
Detecting fake niggas signals
Yo live niggas get it too
Scarin rappers like the fed time
Gotti was acquitted to
Bloodshot red
in a hirsch
All Hail Shawty
The New John Gotti
The real almighty
I don’t like nobody
I don’t trust nobody
Man fuck everybody
I don’t wanna kick it man
shit popper
Spark my trees and wake the whole house
Like it's a pot of Folgers
Movin' like and army platoon, lots of soldiers
M-16's aimed above yo
dedicate to the girl I hate
It's a piece of my mind rhyme put on a plate
So yo go ahead swinger I'm putting up my middle finger
I'm not sad or mad I
back with
The east and west side leaders
Man are badman, man are breeders yo!
Oi listen
Hip-hop, garage, you choose but you lose
I had the game in
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