Lyrics:
I got obama runtz in the ash tray (Obama)
Smoking gotti like it’s back to my past name (John gotti)
Star gotti take me back to my pass ways (Star g)
really fuck wit y'all
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: All Star]
Aye yo I'm Cashville's Prince but you can call me Mr. Star
And ya gotta forgive me if I don't
really fuck wit y'all
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: All Star]
Aye yo I'm Cashville's Prince but you can call me Mr. Star
And ya gotta forgive me if I don't
really fuck wit y'all
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: All Star]
Aye yo I'm Cashville's Prince but you can call me Mr. Star
And ya gotta forgive me if I don't
I move smoke off word of mouth still stop by nana house
Put in work in sandy town gave niggas hand me downs
Lock and load she ready now I gave a fair
to the grave
It's going down, Moe-yo, feel this here baby
[Verse 1: D-Gotti]
These blades are choppin'
And these babes are boppin'
Got a cup full of mud and my
[Talking: Yo Gotti]
I'm a North Memphis Survivor...Survivor
I'm a North Memphis Survivor...I'm a young nigga, money and power
I'm a North Memphis
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
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
yo neck yo head under yo sex
New ni**as ass backwards like putting Y before X
Sign on the check all them zeros is threat
Old rapper getting new money
the money don
And then we do business
All this freestyle for the meanwhile
We ain't in this we charge the premium rate
Black car (Yo, black car)
I'm speaking
explode
Where Brooklyn at?
Yo, BK don't play
Harlem World
Where niggas get the money all day
Boogie Down Bronx, specialize in gunplay
Triboro, so
to tha grave
It's going down, mo-yo, feel this here baby
(verse 1: D-Gotti)
These blades are choppin'
And these babes are boppin'
Got a cup full of mud
time is near, so get your body dropped off
I stopped trustin niggaz since Gotti got caught
It's Bricks keep your wrist covered, or piss colored
By
off
I stopped trustin' niggas since Gotti got caught
It's Bricks, keep your wrist covered, I'm piss colored
By the waist got a gun as dark as Kris
off
I stopped trustin' niggas since Gotti got caught
It's Bricks, keep your wrist covered, I'm piss colored
By the waist got a gun as dark as Kris
girl
Come into my world
38127, shady vista by the stairs
Y O slash G O slash T T I slash
Get up on yo ass
W W W slash dot Gotti slash dot com
Check out
Bitch!
Brick city, yo
Yo, yo funk doc straight lunatic since young
I ate paint chips the rare moon
That pair mics, my maintenance
I battle you
that bitch, so get that understood
I'm an outer space star, bitch I'm up in Mars
And if you wanna talk money, I got all type of cards
Just know I
love my voice
Of course, full-force, I done made it now
[Yo Gotti]
I feel like you can't stop me now
I'm tighter now
More of a writer now
Than a rapper
to move this key
I put my eye to the scope, never missin' a shot
Shoot for the stars, I'mma rip up your top
Step out the car, all they see is the gold
All
super sane crafting my dreams can't be stopped by any walls
One of you earthlings long ago cried out to me to come I heard your call
Calling all stars
to tha grave
It's going down, mo-yo, feel this here baby
(verse 1: D-Gotti)
These blades are choppin'
And these babes are boppin'
Got a cup full of mud
Rollin wit di Stinga
Inna Chinaman Yard
Everything bless
Inna Chinaman Yard
Big up me bredda
Yo Skunga Records
Clear di way
Let Gotti mek a pass
Rolling
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