Lyrics:
the feds got em
Call it what you want it, just can't call me broke boy
And I'm dirty, go out my way to fuck yo ho boy
Its muddy mixed with purple, say it
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
gettin' me anxious
To speak for my defendants, that say that they plaintive
Guess we guilty by song, but yo the government must be on
(Exodus)
I mean
I'm Yo Gotti!
[Chorus]
Pulled up at the show
Half a brick of blow
12 pack of goose, quarter pound of dro
This bitch is sold out (4x)
We do it for
couldn't hit me harder
We got infiltrated, like Nino at the Carter
Heard Tec got murdered in a town I never heard of
by some bitch named Alberta over
the
"Nicki Scarful" comin' through the bus death
Spreads through camps like "Parvul"
Young Gotti Kurupt & see with the dope and the green weed
Indeed I'm
"In world news today: officials agree that rapper Brad Jordan, alias
Scarface, must be stopped
After being monitored by Secret Service agents for
a fight over colors, too
Red Riding Hood, and Little Boy Blue
A bad influence? Yo I don't know
But Ice Cube'll tell the kids how the story should go
Yeah
I'm Yo Gotti!
[Chorus]
Pulled up at the show
Half a brick of blow
12 pack of goose, quarter pound of dro
This bitch is sold out (4x)
We do it for
Little boys and girls, they all love me
Come sit on the lap of I-see-E
And let me tell ya a story or two
About a punk-ass nigga I knew
Named
Little boys and girls, they all love me
Come sit on the lap of I-see-E
And let me tell ya a story or two
About a punk-ass nigga I knew
Named
the dope, son, Jimmy Iovine with the coke, son
Wise time fly by, I'm an OG, bad bitch with double D's
Nigga, Jordan couldn't palm these, feel the breeze
Wrap
the dope, son, Jimmy Iovine with the coke, son
Wise time fly by, I'm an OG, bad bitch with double D's
Nigga, Jordan couldn't palm these, feel the breeze
Wrap
E-V-I-L E and Ice-T are on a jack move
Layin down the dope groove, smokin those who disapprove
Wreckin the deck, you'll regret if you cross punk
are my bands where my rubber band mans
Cause we like them bad boys and bad cars
Them hood rich dope boys and trap stars
'Cause we like them bad
Ay you know what time it is nigga
Aw yeah it's cookin' time homeboy
Chea, I'm Yo Gotti
I got 36 ounces, fish scale uncut
Newspaper on the floor
It's your boy Yo Gotti, gyeah!
Gucci Mane La Flare
My nigga Ralph in here
Zaytoven on the beat, nigga
And it's a street-nigga holiday
My Nigga
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
boys across the cheek with Isotoners
And went to tell yo mama and yo pop that you was a goner
Tell em Big Boi did it, I swear that nigga be rhymin'
Crashed the Bugatti (skrrt-skrrt)
Crashed the Bugatti (skrrt)
QC murder ain't no Gotti (QC)
Shh, don't tell nobody (ayy)
We ain't tryna rob, that's just
Check spit that dope shit bitch I'm John gotti
Cold body I don't fear nobody
Keep that pole by me
So grimey labels won't sign me
Cause they know
We here for a reason, boy, we got more to do
You text just like, "Yo," I'm like, "Yo, I been avoidin' you"
Ye, Jesus gang, you correct
You always
it'll take em years to bite it
Which the greatest fears I don't write it it just appears outta no where like da
Information contain by the phycic like it
dope is amazin'
The bitch that's with you already know that I'm blazin'
That's by the number, we can slumber, on the under
Girl no wonder, you got
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