Lyrics:
niggas wit it, wit it, WB bitch
It's a World War Three nigga, fuckin' wit Gotti boy
I'm bout to separate yo soul from yo body boy
I got that chopper boy,
fucking merked by some lame
Heard he got it in the Range nigga Caine popped one in his brain
Over some-thang, took his watch and his chain
Country boys
You know I got racks just like Yo Gotti
Kicks on my feet, looking like I know karate
When I'm on a track, nigga
I'mma catch a body
Call the producer
we sweepin' up the street bigger
Guns make n****s run, we squeeze triggers
We leave n****s dead for the stacks, slumped over, head in they lap
Yo
my Queens niggas in Staten Island
Niggas in Uptown, niggas in Brooklyn niggas
All my Bronx niggas yeah, all my Jersey niggas! you know?
We doing it
Put the fuckin mic on
Mic is on?
Joe Crack the Don, uh
Yeah, yeah, y'all
Irv Gotti
What's love?
Ashanti, Terror, Terror Squad
It should be
Put the fuckin mic on
Mic is on?
Joe Crack the Don, uh
Yeah, yeah, y'all
Irv Gotti
What's love?
Ashanti, Terror, Terror Squad
It should be
mixtapes)
I want this forever, I swear I can spend whatever on it
'Cause she hold me down every time I hit her up
When I get right I promise that we gone
Wow, we in stereo?
Question for the ages
What's going on with my back pages?
Rappers wanna be down, but listen listen
You got to feel it within
tryin' to grow
With the girl we seein' we ain't really tryin though
Try and beat it up fast on the living room flo'
Got a little older, had to spend
I got it, come on nigga
Oh, Oh
Yeah, yo
Yeah, get nigga
Redman got fire nigga
Shots are in your hood when I'm high nigga
Shots of Cuervo
It's been a pleasure
We told you and we showed you
My nigga Gotti
And like that
See, I look at this shit like football, you know what I'm sayin'?
a reservation, best accommodations
We get the word, they never heard
We were comin' by at all
See what they can do for me
Only got one room free
Little bit
Super
They go crazy
Yeah, they comin' in and out, in and out, in and out
Trap spot boomin'
Got the money comin' in, it ain't no issues
I just
Yo it's money time
Yeah
Yes sir
Oh, oh whoa, oh yeah
Hey hey
I'm trying to stuff 'em til they can't fit no more
I'm talking Donald Trump
(yeah yeah)
Hundred rounds, brrr, spend live by (brr)
Drankin' purple lean, fuck my sky dive
Ridin' in them Wraiths like a shotta (skrrt skrrt)
to stress the past
Why don't we assess the facts
Why you got to stress the past
I am just a freak
Love to watch you when you sleep
We don't got to make it
brother worth another twenty and he a hustler (yeah)
So y'all off to a good start, just got to run it up
I ain't do this shit by myself (nah)
Shout to my
achieved the unachievable
Imagine if my confidence was halfway decent, yo
This just in, fucked more bitches than Bieber though
Still I keep it low, got my
[DJ Quik]
Yo, mesa name is DJ Quik, and this is dedicated to all the bud smokas in the
house if you like to roll up a big fat huddha and smoke it
the Simpsons
I'm pimpin' like I'm Lennon, got a lot of foreign women
They can't control my spendin', fuck it, I ain't got no limit
Tippin', Slim Jimmy
We can
it, feel it
Oh, everybody feel it
God knows that's alright, yes
Some of us were born with money to spend
Some of us were born for races to win
call em "grown men"
Dope stepped on, call it "step-child
I got that Slim Shady, we call it "8 Mile"
I'm from North Memphis, Watkins and Brown
Gotti
the malt shop where we used to go
Just because it reminds me of you (dippity dippity doo)
That's right (that's right) you ain't gonna see me cryin'
I'm
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