Search results for 'givin up by yo gotti' Page #100

your door
Takin' yo shit
And we gotta get gone
Ayy, G-22
With the glitch on the back
Still in the hood,
And I pistol pack
Take your shit
I'm not givin

out your speakers like i'm packin, yo
Death Row, D smoke, throw it up for west coast pride
Oregon Baby come with some west coast rhymes
Smooth with it

To define who I am
Im wit your bitch on the low
Her body on me
Her ass up and down on my strap
Like yo-yos

I'm passin out loans like they ppp's
I hate to be

smarter 
I got God on my team
And If God be for me who can be against me
If God be for me who can be against me

Aye yo
Swallow my pride
Change up my whole

the silent treatment already ain't no siree
I'm taking on the role of a heel or the heavy
Bout to make a flick in which yo protag gets taken out by me,
Try me,

of my tactic
I really don't care I don't need yo opinion
I'm independent
Fuck up the industry call me a menace
I roll up a blunt, time to go hit it
I

My buddy a demon, my buddy a goat
Yeah he right by my side so he go where I go
Can't tell you nothin' my brother don't know
Cause if we get

the numbers, like a phone log
Did my thing in LA, but niggas don't call
Back, so they lack, or they doze off
Aye, yo tell me how we sound, yeah I know huh?
They

Pimp'en the Scene

Partners-N-Crime

Whatcha Wanna Do?

see
If I feel he's gonna do some harm to me
Protectin' me, by any means necessary
In New Orleans, niggas killin' for less than a G
That's why it be,

days, how many nights, in the studio up I write
and recite these bars to change yo life 
and despite any gripe a nikka will be iight
Never blinded by

Bae I'm way too geeked up
Do not call on me I might not answer
Bae you way too freaked up
Off that drink she turn right to a dancer
I've been rapping

fly like Peter Pan
Since a jit, I been that man, bet yo bitch, my biggest fan
But she can't even get a chance, woke up on some bougie shit
I'm

Somebody wanna come and bust a move, but I ain't gonna have it 'cause I'm with you
Come up to my place and I'll cook for you. Would you like to eat a peach,

Lockin himself in the cell, callin for help, but no ones around
I feel underground
Fuck it tho I be like givin up bitches, and gettin the stitches to aim

up with the stroll/Im just working just to pay back what I owe/the system is corrupted/don't ask me if I trust it/it's not the education it's

That Was Then

Roy Jones, Jr.

Round One: The Album

2002

went from ashy elbows, to loungin on Melrose
Stayin in the best suites for weeks
In (?) sheets, alone while you cryin at home
By the phone, hopin I'll

Woke up chose violence
I been feeling violent
Boostin up the murder rate
Niggas getting silenced
All these tracks past
Violated by your highness

ain't usin' it
Blowin' up her phone said he losin' it
He just want her home
She jus told 'em pack his shit
Now she givin dome
Use a lot of spit
Love

me
Came in you back to back how you gone evade me

I could never cheat so why you tryna play me
I could tell I put in work how u puttin on yo jeans
She

They callin the cops
They callin the opps
We bring in the mops to clean up the drops
We bust in ya spot
You like it or not
I'm takin his watch

yo; call me yield
Cuz the gifted got the right of way
Hobby writers better keep it safe
Keep right up inside all them slow lanes
More brains, more

I'm in this life but I cannot complain cause I'm still in the field
I'm still posted up tryna catch me a hat
Nigga playin' around me you know you get

back like kit kat (Kit Kat)
Run up on me get yo shit snatched (Shit snatched)
Pussy nigga this the get back (Get back)
Pussy nigga better get back (Get

I'm doin' all these drugs, ima go and pop a x
Yeah, I feel like givin' up, but I'ma still try my best

Everywhere i go im droppa nigga, still throw up