Lyrics:
I'ma see you in Hell (inhale)
Battle rap? Boy you wouldn't win a debate
The type of legacy I got
You don't get by mistake
Man don't let them amp you up
Jumped off of the porch
And I went and bought a stick
Jumped out off the Porsche
And I damn near bought a bitch
Real dope boy, tell the fans take
Tyson ready to bite somebody
Baby said she quit, but now she back on Molly
Designer on my body-ody-ody-ody
White lamb, Yo Gotti
hundred 94 money
Brown paper bag ol dope boy money,
Ol dope boy money
(verse 1)
Easily I approache the microphone ya da kids no joke,
Tell yo hoe to get
to yo folks
Disrespect we at your throat fuck around get smoked
Came up off dope dealing niggas riding on spokes
This the era you go broke then you double
21 zips nigga pass the stick
Bag up the coke with my dope chick
Can't front you nope you a flight risk
Tryna duck the man with the night stick
Dirt
Pull up in the Tesla like Skrt Skrt Skrt
Friday the dope boy Monday
Tryna get this money by Sunday
Prayin' that I leave hood one day
Saying imma
just made my first milly sellin' straight dope
Why the fuck am I even rappin' or tryin'
Completely uninspired by niggas constantly lyin'
Feed you shit
the stage
MF That's a show body
She ain't got a real job
All she do is show body
Spin the murder inc
Dj call up irv gotti
Pull up to yo bitch house
Hi nice
me
Boy these streets a fuck you over boy that bitch stay horny
Let's go
I be posted by my lonely can't let the devil harm me
Boy these streets a fuck
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
smoking on dope cooking cabbage A Hamilton flow boy I can not let Go got my
Hands on her throat got my mattress all soaked I just flipped that shit over
put this gun up I'm uh run it up
Can't worry about them little honeys, I got bigger bucks
When we walk in the room, they screaming dope to me
I got yo
boy in some baggy jeans
Unlike the Mack Daddy crap, ain't got no cash, no weed
I get by like a ginger version of the last Mohican
Yo D120, yo Al-kan,
you let me
Keep yo' girl wetter than Game on a jet-ski
Ooh cool cool - say he smoother than a baby's ass
Pops was a dope boy we still spendin eighties
fuck Gotti
Tha N-O been way bout it 'fore P told ya
I'm a real soulja lets go to war & I'mma show ya
I don't have a damn conscience about nathan
How ya
so saved
Saved by the grace of the father
I hope you like the way I spit just like it was some lava
Blah!
Brah
Yo I am the fucking dragon
You fuck
Now these doors don't open til after dark
And it ain't til twelve 'til the party really starts
(Yo me and my crew had to be in by ten
Right
decided to leave and get
His rap on elsewhere
Ask me if they care and I
Give you a stare like no
You can't cope, they dope, but outtie
Fools that follow
the drugs and thugs meet
Yo I bust shots out glocks wid kids that push rocks
Hol' glocks run in spots wid G's like Fort Knox
Rhyme excellent kill 'em
Aight check this out right
I go by the name of DJ Khaled
My nigga Birdman say yo Khaled man
Lets do something for the streets listen
Shh d-Boy in
like
"Gotti" (Yo)
"I'm throwing a party, come and parlay
Finna shoot you the addy; ain't too far from where you stay
Bad bitches and alcohol, what more I
And I'm still down with The C-L-I-C-K
Comin' yo way in the 94
Then 95, it don't stop boy ain't no jive
Sell the rest of them tapes boy
Where
You’re a local
You’re a local boy, you’re a local boy
You not makin' noise
Yo, what’s good my nigga?
I got two baddies with me
One like henny and one like
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