Lyrics:
money over bitches
My shit's phenomenal, droppin' like domino
Comin' with the real yo and
Fuck what you feel yo
This is not for all the
Freaks in short
king
So she drove up in the ghetto looking to do her thing
Checking the brothers going crazy when the car skirts by the flow
I keep it real and peep it
Yeah, Blacc Jon Gotti
My CostaNosta till I die!
Young Kros on the beat!
Break down dimes in the trap house
Bitches face down with they ass out
Got
off
I stopped trustin' niggas since Gotti got caught
It's Bricks, keep your wrist covered, I'm piss colored
By the waist got a gun as dark as Kris
off
I stopped trustin' niggas since Gotti got caught
It's Bricks, keep your wrist covered, I'm piss colored
By the waist got a gun as dark as Kris
you keep it real where you from
Cause where you at might put da dagger in yo back its like livin wit yo homey dat
Be on crack and fat my niggas know my
were real cushy (Sleep)
Cute girls wear Doc Martens
(Oh)
When I hit the beat switch all the jaws drop (Jaws drop)
Blowin' out the speakers right on yo
gangsta shit
I say No Limit loud, cause we ain't scared of nobody
Organized by P or should I say, John Gotti
Real niggas, put ya guns up if ya feel me
But
of lighting by Zeus done struck
This is real life nothing to do with luck
I got safe houses in Memphis Nebraska South Dakota and Iowa
I could change your life
yo' ass up
You know where we comin' from
Death Row! BIATCH! Ha ha hahaha!
A yo, Kurupt, you first to blast, nigga
And you know how we do it
and chill
Lettin' you so calleds know the deal
Hollow tips yo ass gonna feel
Roll yo dice bitch and you real
Fuckin' with the click, the crew, the clan
You
a rubber band bank
Where my hood niggas at? in the sky, in the sky
26's on that chevy thang when it pass by
I know some
Niggas from Cali that'll leave yo
real thick
Joint by my side let's blow real quick
Niggas tripping on me why he actin like a bitch
Yeah i be following a prophecy
Just like a king I be
Yo This what freedom sounds like... Suckers
You better believe your fucking with me your fucking around yo your fucking with a real mc
You better
We push this art like it's some trap shit
We're putting Memphis on the map
We're driven up in these streets
By music cook, eat, repeat
Shit's crazy
shots like Jon Gotti
That choppa chop yo chop up like Hibachi
Why you hating on a nigga like a Nazi
Aint no way no way a bitch can stop me
Told lil baby
on the visit
Yeah, you better off talking on the visit
If you don't know how to speak in code
You gone' fuck around and catch
A new charge yo
I heard Rap D got
of wives, bae, I'm a polygamist
I'm a king, I put the queens in positionists
Daddy say I'm pimpin' hoes on my Memphis shit
But now one of my wives gon' be
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
have a face off
Day Before Tomorrow no features producer K Dub
By the way that's King Whistle
Artist slash executive
Proceeding with the adjectives
shit
Too much tricks, manipulation, it feel fake
Instead of like Big Meech you
Could be like Bill Gates
Real cake don't come from
When you deal weight
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 nigga that wouldn't
gangsta shit
I say No Limit loud, cause we ain't scared of nobody
Organized by P or should I say, John Gotti
Real niggas, put ya guns up if ya feel me
But
You can tell I'm real, by lookin' in the ball of my eye.
I will get some cream from it, one day, your baby, and my baby.
Can my some dough on Teem
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