Lyrics:
Yeah, Blacc Jon Gotti
My CostaNosta till I die!
Young Kros on the beat!
Break down dimes in the trap house
Bitches face down with they ass out
Got
this what it's 'bout
We rob that trick and stick his dick off in his fuckin' mouth
We Memphis niggas
Go to sleep hoe, go to sleep, go to sleep hoe,
boom on top boom, boom gat for gat
And all the rules got the drop on you
And let the nickel nine pop on you
Yo, my crew in the front got it
Got-ti motherfucker
I holds the microphone like a grudge
In the 'llac laid back, so back the fuck up
This might give you a heart attack
It's real
‘em *gunshot*
Pop in that, in that and that hood
Hell I even call a little funkin in the back woods
I give props to St Louis, props to Memphis
Buck
Bands in the bag, I can dance for you
Turnin' your back and dance for me
There ain't nothing I can't do for you
Bad gyal, bad gyal
Movin' your
busy daddy's writing a song
This song ain't gonna write it'self
I'll give you one underdog then
You gotta swing by yourself
Then turn right around in
this what it's 'bout
We rob that trick and stick his dick off in his fuckin' mouth
We Memphis niggas
Go to sleep hoe, go to sleep, go to sleep hoe,
Don't you dodge
Cuase it's only gonna be
Murder murder on my mind
Leavin' blank in the pass
When you drop that fuckin' glass
Manne I bet'cha I kill yo ass
beat yo' ass if you walk in this house with tears in your eyes
Runnin' from poopoo and 'prentice
Go back outside, I beat yo' ass, lil nigga
That
You come talkin' that trash, we'll pull your card
Knowin' nothin' in life, but to be legit
Don't quote me, boy, 'cause I ain't said shit
Yo, Leroy
Single, I'm single (It's Yo Gotti) Go go go go go
It's gonna rock up in the building (Go, go)
Single single single, single, single (I know)
I'm
make the money cause ya smoked up the product
Walkin' round the town, skeptalepsy illaroduct
Can't be trusted cause you're living in
real hip-hop shit
Yo, yo yo, mayday mayday, mayday mayday
Walk barefoot on niggaz like Kunta Kinte
(so, what you say?) what is you doin' you walkin
Keep 'em there
Yo, run the jewels, run the jewels, run the jewels
Can you feel it?
I used to be rollin' like a millionaire
Cash in a flash,
You come talkin' that trash, we'll pull your card
Knowin' nothin' in life, but to be legit
Don't quote me, boy, 'cause I ain't said shit
Yo, Leroy
Yo
Mic check (my dick!)
Testing, one, two, fuck
(My dick)
My nuts
My attitude is worse than NWA's was
I'll battle you over stupid shit
Yo
Mic check (my dick!)
Testing, one, two, fuck
(My dick)
My nuts
My attitude is worse than NWA's was
I'll battle you over stupid shit
to your knees its OV
(Lord Infamous)
So all you niggaz join gangs because your weak alone
Catch you by yo self yo ass ol' get gone
Run up in the door
[Chorus]
[Black Child + Charli Baltimore]
My nigga Ja sold more records then a {O.G.}
Ty flyin by in 'Lac truck like a {O.G.}
And Gotti's dough's
on dumb shit, the dummest and the dummest (bitch)
Yeah, I know that I'm a dummy but lately been goin' dumber
Memphis nigga in LA, slammin' bitches like
with the hotties
I'm numero uno in your eyes honey poppi
Yo lady Gotti
Thugged out, hooriding ready to kill
Yet make me feel like others can't with
D.C., Tampa, Chicago
Dallas, Memphis, Detroit and L.A.
So call in now, 1-800-High-as-a-Motherfucker
That's 1-800-,High-as-a-MOTHERFUCKER!!
DOCTOR DOCTOR!
they found me)
Was fuckin' with cocaine, way before I met Yo Gotti (way before I met Yo Gotti)
This street shit in my veins, a quarter-million can't
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