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Yo GottiYo Gotti 

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Yo Gotti

Mario Mims (born May 19, 1981), better known by his stage name Yo Gotti, is a southern rapper from the northern side of Memphis, Tennessee who was previously known as Lil Yo. more »

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Aye you know I'm cocaine crazy right?
These niggas go white dis , white that (Quit fucking with me, white everything)
A lil' bitch I f*ck with talk bout she want white cat
You know this my city nigga! (Ho you crazy) Pussy ass nigga
I got bass in the trunk, highs on the inside, 
Marshmallow paint 49ers on the inside Touchdown, 
A nigga going long, field goal, 
Extra point a nigga going strong 210 on the dash, 
Blue jean inside, white wit blue top, 
Like the Yankees when I come past Home run, 
That boy out the park, bases loaded, world series, that boy hustle smart

Streets talkin', gotta be doin' good
Niggas wanna try 'em, 
Couple niggas from the hood you know how that go, 
Niggas say you don't f*ck wit em, 
Truth be told wen I hustlin' I ain't f*ck wit 'em same nigga still owe me on a pack, 
Think a nigga forgot because I'm rappin' nah
When I get off the road, 
I shoot back to my town new whips, 
New watch, f*ck with me, 
Its goin' down own family hatin', 
Niggas looking mad, guess it be little better if a nigga was doin' bad, but momma got a smile, 
Brother still wild I gotta get this money I just had another child, They say I'm gettin' fat, 
Guess I'm eatin' good 20 racks in the motor, got my name under the hood, Yo Gotti, 
Sometimes I think back, I could of went fed, this a chance in a lifetime I gotta think ahead
I got base in the trunk, highs on the inside, marshmallow paint 49ers on the inside Touchdown, 
A nigga going long, field goal, extra point a nigga going strong 210 on the dash, 
Blue jeans inside, white with blue top, like the Yankees when I come past Home run, 
That boy out the park, bases loaded, world series, that boy hustle smart

My city rootin' for me the club owners mad 'cause I won't come to kick it for under 25 bands 
And you taking it personal I'm just tryna feed my mans see you ain't a real nigga 
So that's somethin' you wouldn't understand but if it wasn't for my homeboys 
And if it wasn't for my fans I would of been clicked on you bitches 
And doin' a quarter off and the can but I'mma keep on grindin' and keep on shinin'
'Cause that's what you can't stand I'mma kill you bitches softly every time I ride pass 
What the f*ck make you wanna beef wit me like you street as me 
Running round here talking down bitch you ain't use to be wit me bitch 
You ain't use to tote heat wit me bitch you ain't use to eat wit me bitch 
I was thuggin' and Ridgecrest yo funky ass was somewhere down the street 
Yo f*ck ass ain't no real g tell me where dey do that at gang bang in yo neighborhood 
But round me wouldn't even throw up your set Motherfuckers do anything for a check, 
OK that's cool but don't f*ck around & let project pat and juicy j get yo ass wet 
On another note I'm the same nigga wit mo paper nd mo bigger 
And wen ever I'm and town bitch im rite here on shady vista 
My jewelry on my car parked my shirt off wit no pistol 
Ain't nan nigga gone take nothin' my lil niggas a shake somethin'
My lil' niggas got mo paper my lil' niggas don't even rap runnin' 
Round talk bout you got signed bitch you still livin in the trap!
I got base in the trunk, highs on the inside, 
Marshmallow paint 49ers on the inside Touchdown, 
A nigga going long, field goal, extra point a nigga going strong 210 on the dash, 
Blue jeans inside, white with blue top, like the Yankees when I come past Home run, 
That boy out the park, bases loaded, world series, that boy hustle smart

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