Lyrics:
like the love coming from the blocky
I don't feel nobody
I don't feel nobody
I'm like who are you
I don't know yo like Gotti
I don't feel nobody
I do
Yeah, I know people who would've had their family all wiped out
They don't tell lies and, and rat
That's, that's on page number one (Gotti)
It's
Yeah
Live from the bottom of the map
With the buddah burning heavy
By the bottle of the jack
I been working daily man I never get a pass
So I gotta
get hot, they shoot yo' ass on the spot
'Cause bitch made niggaz get fucked like a ho
But be outta work like that nigga Arsenio
'Cause niggaz be talkin'
too late)
Push the button, 'cause I'ma get
Pass me a SCUD missile, so I can bomb the land
Yo Pras (what?) Yo Pras (what?) Some start to wonder
What's all the noise about?
Have some respect shut the fuck up
Driveby money talkin shit yo back the truck up
Y'all niggaz don't respect me but
ass, we ran right through it
You out acting like yo' shit be tight
Get some shit, fuck it off like Tamika Wright
Get the fuck out my site, I
been small
It done get smaller
Work too hard
Ima play harder
Bigger than a king
Im bigger than I though tho
Jumped out my dreams
Into my life yo
Dressed
my scale, I play that trap shit
Bump Yo Gotti
When I'm working my scale, I play that trap shit
Bump Young Yeezy
When I'm working my scale, I play that
Bobby will body anybody Like Gotti did Gambino, from Maryland to Reno
We know Tarantino a killer
But the Young Sinatra got you by the neck
down your state, go, get yo' guns
We, we came to fight
It's yo' disgrace, smash up your place, that's just polite
Get your work up, get your work up
Get
his ass, we ran right through it
You out actin like yo' shit be tight
Get some shit, fuck it off like Tamika Wright
Get the fuck out my site, I
proper
And enough for one key I
See seventy thousand dollas
Now I was shootin' dice, smokin' on a joint
I bet with Yo Gotti
He hit five straight points
We
Employee of the Month, cause yo, I do work
The K-A-N-E is on the J-O-B
An expert, cause I get it D-O-N-E
So lights, camera, action - all hail the one!
them hard times
This come with the gang life
I really had to work for the shit I want
Had to grind for the shit I need
I done made it out them
and Jon B but bitch I was raised by the Gotti, Ashanti, So bodies on me
Yeah I’m the papa OG, and you snotty nose, vamanos, rapido please
Pour me coqui
on)
From A-B to C, best learn your less-ons (-ons...)
Cuz I'm so damn serious, it'll leave yo' ass stunned
In the back and we packin on all who
happy when he happy
But, he actin', he ain't happy where he at
I think it's time to work, work, on you
Time to work, work on you, work, work on you)
yo, hey yo
I like the way you work it
No diggity, I got to bag it up,
I like the way you work it
No diggity, I got to bag it up,
I like the way you
ya, put them hookers to work
He want to save the hoe, so he took her to church
Bitches slangin', lootin', hookin', recruitin'
Work the credit cards,
What's all the noise about?
Have some respect shut the fuck up
Driveby money talkin shit yo back the truck up
Y'all niggaz don't respect me but
a party ahk
Fuck a cop catch a body call it body rock
Blowing sticky on my grizzy call it milli rock
Mind yo bizzy before I smoke you like extended glocs
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)
there?)
Yo, hey yo
[Chorus 2X: Sheek and Redman]
Get up, stand up - throw your hands up
All my thug niggaz throw your motherfuckin hands up
Get up, stand
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