Fa Fa Fa
CMG The Label, EST Gee, Yo Gotti
Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer
(Ayy, who that? John Gotitt) Trap be still doin' numbers Big Gotti still got runners Twenty years straight no fumbles Wildlife, nigga, from the jungle Nigga too small to be cocky (lil' nigga) And, I'm too big to be humble Yeah, I was okay, rich sellin' thunder Too much, can't tuck it I'm punchin' (on go) I ain't get no game from my uncles (uh-uh) So, I ain't show 'em no love on the numbers F*ck 'em, shit, they hated my pops Fake like it's love 'cause I'm up, but it's not First in the city put switch on a glock First nigga paid five figures a drop Keep a good grip when you hittin', it's hot Put one up top and then hop out the car with that- Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa When the twin flames jump at that car (frrt) I'll make a nigga call for Allah (on God) I'm a trap nigga, babe, I'm a star (I am) When I say go bar for bar (sticks) See, that's a hundred thousand Xanax bars (bars) Now, I could buy it on a Amex card (swipe) Ain't no receipt on a pack, nigga (pack) Ain't no brin'in' this shit back, nigga (back) F*ck around and get fat, nigga (fat) Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa I got these sticks in the rental This bitch in the car and she too sentimental I got my dawg in my car, and he f*ck with the opps, he playin' the middle Oh, he thinkin' he slime, I'm three steps ahead, he don't even know it I told him, "I need some gas," I get out, then pump it, they pull up, and blow it (frrah) I was chillin' in Turks, my nigga on Percs, he talkin' 'bout killin' (killin') I'm tryna exit up the streets, this shit gotta ceilin', I'm thinkin' 'bout billions ('bout billions) I just talked to Drew Findling, they finna free doggy you don't know the feelin' Yeah, you don't know the feelin', they lock up ya partner, y'all runnin' up millions (damn) Yeah, I just jumped off the island, I'm back on a tour Jump off the tour, and I'm back in the trap Jump out the trap, and go up to the office Put down the strap, go through some offers Pick up my strap, and I'm back at the door (yeah) Phone on private, ain't droppin' my lo' (my lo') Callin' the label, they late on our paper We treatin' this shit like we still sellin' dope Brand new Ferrari, I ordered it (skrrt) Asian masseuse, imported it ('ported it) I'm on the side, my niggas on, so, it they get on yo' ass, I'm supportin' it I'm too big for the bullshit, I already know it (I know it) I know better, but, I ignore it I'm not a rapper I'm a poet (What am I?) Street nigga, drug lord (Gotti) Let the beat breathe Ayy, let the beat breathe on these pussies Just vibe out, flex, know what I'm sayin'? First 100K, I remember (frrt) First seven figures, I remember (frrt) First AK, I remember (fah) It was a cold day in December First nigga felt that- (uh), first nigga felt this fire First nigga- First niggas y'all let die (pussies)
Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer
Written by: George Stone III, John Carlos Ramirez, Mario Mims, Max Jacobsson, Randy Razz II
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
Citation
Use the citation below to add these lyrics to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Fa Fa Fa Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 May 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/12998693/Yo+Gotti/Fa+Fa+Fa>.
Discuss the Fa Fa Fa Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In