Lyrics:
hands I was dealt
When I said the music business was all I needed
When I got it I was greeted by an alien
That said last year that she slept with
the boys break they necks when I walk on by
Fat ol? ass, thick ol? thighs
Mrs.Trina, baddest bitch, that's right
Diamond princess running 3.0.5
I still
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
to shame
And I've seen enough to know
That I've seen too much
So Mr. when you're rattling
On heaven's gate
Let me tell you Mr.
By then it is too
(yo, you know what I'm sayin'?) why are you so mad?
Yo, I'ma I'ma keep it real simple for you
Yeah t-t-t-t-t-tell them niggas why you mad, son
Tell
I be talkin' 'bout"
And we gon' be around til yo motherfuckin' body rot
And if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got
And if the Feds
nothin' but that Cocaine Muzik, that Yo Gotti
Tombstone ready, took shit from nobody
I got a bad bitch from Vogue
Told her strike a pose
Step
never at home.
Now she's fighting back the tears, she can't even laugh alone.
She's just sitting by the telephone, like a yo-yo.
You needed me when you
But one little boy who sat by himself
Was reading a letter he had
You could plainly tell by the look on his face
That the contents of it made him sad
performin?
Shit, but it?s aight, just let her ride
Yo she down wit? a nigga, just let her ride
See I'm gon? live my life, and she gon? live her life, yo
I'm Mr. Blue
When you say you love me
Then prove it by goin' out on the sly,
Provin' your love isn't true
Call me Mr. Blue
I'm Mr. Blue
What you know about it?
What you know about it?
What you know about it?
What you know about it?
A-what you know about it?
Yo get it right
"Mrs. Johnson
You're wearin' your dresses way too high
It's reported you've been drinking
And a-running 'round with men and goin' wild
And we don't
know
It's time that I take advantage, take command yo
Cops caught me red-handed
Blood On the Dance Floor
or was it Michael Jackson
his ass, we ran right through it
You out actin like yo' shit be tight
Get some shit, fuck it off like Tamika Wright
Get the fuck out my site, I
the trap" (it's ya boy Yo Gotti)
I have wet dreams 'bout my kitchen, I got trust issues with my bitches
Every gun inside my city, it got switches, I'm not
at the reception
In her glass was a bleeding man
She was practiced at the art of deception
Well, I could tell by her blood-stained hands, sing it
You can't
like a black president (why)
'Cause niggas ain't seein' me
Has beens they both like bad skinz so face it
After this joint yo we passin' out some neck
And the enemy is one-time
I ain't gotta tell you
Yo, it's right in front of your eyes
We rep the QBC, nigga, rep yours, it's all love
Milli' stacked down,
gon' hit yo' ass up. You know where we comin' from
Death Row BIOTCH hahaha Ay yo Kurupt
You first to blast nigga and you know how we do it
Watch me!
Jigga-Man, ya heard? Boom boom boom
Brooklyn, ya heard? Boom boom booom
Compton!
Gotti Gotti ya heard? Yo,
C'mon!
You gotta, pop that
on you, what you wanna do?
Whatever? Party's over, tell the rest of the crew
Yo Big Noyd it's on you, what you wanna do?
Whatever? Party's over, tell
Yo
Just so you all know what time it is
It's your homeboy
Straight from the A-T
I ain't even going say the motherfucking rest
But you know
on everything (Cocaine Murzik)
Uh, Gotti in a 'Gatti, I like how it sounded
Nine figures up, but I been stayin' grounded (stayin' grounded)
Scoop a nigga
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