Lyrics:
yo' ass up
You know where we comin' from
Death Row! BIATCH! Ha ha hahaha!
A yo, Kurupt, you first to blast, nigga
And you know how we do it
Look
If you had
One shot
Or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted
In one moment
Would you capture it
Or just let it slip?
Yo
Aye yo' name must be Ray Allen or somethin'
You got game nigga
Fuck yo' game I got wrist game
I just bought a Bentley wit' my wrist game
Earn my
with that sign
It's a cold thing,
You got the game fuck up
Brown nose and every other nigga rich,
Like a broke bitch
Excuse me miss, yeah you
You need
Turn the heat up on that beef
Ain't nobody cook'n though
A section full of them bitches
That Yo Gotti Look'n foe
Yeah that's them 5 stars
The get
don't know about stand on business, we don't talk about it Shh
Man shout out Yo Gotti, I'm rippin' this he gave us I'm honored
We came up from nothin',
bitch
The Embassy Suites
We takin turns tossin a bitch
Who I be? Yo Gotti
Ain't scared of nobody
Clique tight wit my people
Totin' a desert eagle
You roll
Look
If you had
One shot
Or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted
In one moment
Would you capture it
Or just let it slip?
Yo
yo' bad self
Alright
I've come to know the cold
I think of it as home
When there ain't enough of me
To go around
I'd rather be left alone
But if I call
[Chorus]
To all my people goin' through it on a daily basis
And it seem like the world is full of cold places
Keep yo' head up, fuck what they
lean on top of these ice cubes
Beat done by Chucky
Did the show, hit the door
Bagged your bitch (easily)
And she ain't never leavin' me
Yo I came
The Aphelliates, nigga (pay attention)
(Trapaholics)
We makin' it easy
Uh-huh (Holiday Season)
Uh-huh, yo
Ayo, I was on the plane with Dwayne
lean on top of these ice cubes
Beat done by Chucky
Did the show, hit the door
Bagged your bitch (easily)
And she ain't never leavin' me
Yo I came
a rose and winters was cold
Had to go over and stand by the stove
We from the Southeast, niggas know
This where the opps creep real slow
Won't vote but
what's up
To the niggas on the corner cold bumping the box
But you know that's an alibi for slanging the rocks
A dice game started so I said what the fuck
to stop carrying a wallet
Coaching the game like my name Greg Popovich
I live by the code like I stay in sum apartments
I be on fire like my name yo gotti
on that tag on yo' toe
Now who gon tell yo mother, her baby's under a cover in the morgue
Stiff as a log, sniffed out by the dogs
Son of a hard headed
[Intro: Big Moe]
Throw, yo' hands high, wave 'em side to side
Throw, yo' hands high, wave 'em side to side
Throw, yo' hands high, wave 'em side
don't want to don't
Mean I don't got it
I turned myself into a boss I feel like Gotti
But I won't go out like Gotti
And I won't go out like shawty
I know
My nigga Ja sold more records than an o.g. (o.g.)
Tah flyin by in the Lac truck like a o.g.(o.g.)
For Gotti I'd body a nigga quicker than a o.g.
on the motor cycle
Drinkers they so delightful, blinging with so much ice
In front of sparks, body cops Dilano
Block away watch by Gotti and Girvano
It's la
fresher than a tux from Armani, nigga
Eating that Cipriani, spending money like Gotti
Pull out my cold watch, Swiss edition, Rio collection, I'm out
Let
and friends I gotta do for
So ride wit me through these cold ass street
And you know how the winter get, you better hold heat
We only know murder, we don't know
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
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