Lyrics:
that
[Hook]
[Verse2: Yo Gotti]
How many real niggaz can stand up and tell the truth
Lay it all on the line when they step in the booth
Not that many
And they need they story told on Jerry or Ricki
Well you're green and you're iffy
I'm clean and I'm spiffy
If they lock me up today I'll be back in
is very artistic
But I'm still from the hood, will take your existence
So motherfuckers tryin' scratch my paint
It's West coast in the house, what
back
We goin' clap back, we gon' clap back
(Let's take 'em to war niggas)
We goin' clap back, we gon' clap back
Fuck if they holl'in about Rule nigga,
On God, On God On God, On God On God
On God On God, On God On God, On God On God)
(Deh deh deh deh it's on God, Run in back oh Ceaser it's on God
Run in
the projects
Please don't make me catch a body
Please don't make me catch a body
All white, Yo Gotti
I heard some niggas was tryna rob me
Please don't make me
play by dog rules (ruff)
Young niggas in my hood on their dog food (ruff)
I'mma train that bitch, send that hoe to dog school (dog school)
Her friend
What's all the noise about?
Have some respect shut the fuck up
Driveby money talkin shit yo back the truck up
Y'all niggaz don't respect me but
the stripping
Cough cough
I mean
The rest of y'all did the difference
Get yo payback nigga
Seen a nigga come through flexing in his Maybach tripping
Ain't
quicker then punts
Im sick of you punks
Cock it back now Im upset
Yo' niggas next
Im blowing smoke outta ya chest when it connect
Creepin like insects
comin' like the Gotti boys
Bodies bein' found on Greenleaf
With their fuckin' heads cut off, motherfucker, I'm Dre
So listen to the play-by
comin' like the Gotti boys
Bodies bein' found on Greenleaf
With their fuckin' heads cut off, motherfucker, I'm Dre
So listen to the play-by
cha' need
I got trees and I bricks for chee cheese
Fuck wit yo boy I turn around and fuck wit you back
You shot a few times I turn around and front you
the door nigga,
Bone Thugs got a story that's similar to Mike Jones
You can ask my homies
I'm memba back in the days they didn't want me
Now I blew up
on opposite sex
The cream got me fiend for mass appeal scheme
Like doin' drive-bys in stretched limousines
I keep tons of guns my niggas on
The run pack
think it was real all black my K
Hellcat burning out leaving smoke in they face
Them ain't real diamonds yo shit look created
Gmn in da city we da most
in the back i know he gone blow
Sosa in the pen holding it down doing it Solo
Im just tryna keep my pockets right
Tour stylin n im wildin got me
hardcore street team crash the party with Def Jam
And incorporate murda like Gotti
How about in back of the yellow cab like Seinfeld
Chew you like
in my Chevy 'Vette
Nah, you ain't ready yet, wetter than yo' girl get
Dolce 'Bana, Dolce shades, don't you wanna see the boy
See the boy, see
and escape from the ghetto and don't never come back.
Yeah motherfucker, you can run but you sure can't hide!
Deep down in the jungle with a crack
on the dash
Now we got Mictech
Bringing the light back
I am the pilot Yeah yeah
Stepping in silence
Don’t need no violence
Sturdy and solid yeah yeah
Finna
incense jerks (back in the day)
Silently clashin'
Clash is
Throwin' towels in like pa**es
All I want to know is where the a** is
If you got yo' pistol,
in a box
Cause he walking like
Harassed by the cops
I hear him talking like
They keep surveillance on lock
Like he came straight up out the hood
I
clouds
Me and Lil' John Gotti, rockin' 80 grand crowds
Fresh off the back street, concrete fatha figure
Niggas shiver when I deliver
Blastin' hollerin'
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