Lyrics:
shotties
I’ll send a hit like I’m Gotti
Dance on a pack like I’m Scotty 2 Hotty
My niggas rich no Roddy
I’m smoking OG mixed up with Gelatti
Don’t wanna
la la la la la la lah ) ill change yo life and we be singing lullabies
I'mma put dat ass to sleep
I like it in da kitchen 'cause dat my favourite
Yeah
Digits, motherfuckers lied, money didn't
So I'm doubling down, trying to get it
Ain't gonna stop till I'm touching a million
Work in the kitchen
go, thankful to Jesus now watch this Mary go
Cold wit this shit but I'm from Arkansas not Toronto
I hang out wit gangstas and I shouldn't they packin
I'm accepted
By mainstream America and good in the piece
Now niggas wanna talk all greasy (why)
Like they ain't used to open up for
Me in New York on tv
thoughts, I think that I've become obsessed with death
And I know it's fucked up, but yo I'm trying hard so get the fuck out o'my face
I'll work it out
w the green
Get a O make it stretch like a fucking limousine (stretch)
What's in my Wood? It's some press yea I'm smoking tangerine
Come get yo girl
paper so I start my day off right
They call me Cocaine Gotti, and it's money over bitches
Mr. Everything White, he be always in the kitchen
to be stung by a bee, that's just me
Or a wasp
Yeah, I'm being legit...
Got a clean record (you know?)
It really went from...
A joke to an album now I'm
I ain't impressed by a killer
I'm impressed by a hustler who's taking care his mother and his brother
And his significant other
Put his niggas in
It's a man's world, niggas get played
Another stray
Hope I live to see another day, hey!
I'm gettin' sweated by these undercovers
Who can I trust, got my
and Haitian Gotti can rap nigga
I got rich nigga dreams (Uh Huh)
That's by any means (Aye)
If you intervene (Now what you do?)
You gon fall (Aye)
Tryna get me
all my mens
throw on some Marvin Gaye
I smoke my weed and clean my kitchen dishes
Tec to the sky see how mom's is always bitchin'
I'm done buffin'
silver, celebrate that
Anybody get rude to the Roll Deep crew
No long ting we regulate that
Yo, my name is Skepta
I'm in Roll Deep but I live in North
I'm Gotti, motherfucker, Chucks and T's
Nickels and semi-automatic ninas and beams
I don't really give a fuck about your hood, my nigga
I'm just
Record execs wanna push the album way back
And hold back on my advance
They didn't pay that
Producers want seven points
He didn't play that, yo did he say
and
Every time I see her I just listen like yo gotti cuz
I just wanna show you love nothing else It's true
I just wanna show you love nothing else it's you
Second album of the year, I'm on my trap shit
Make a skinny ho pay me like a fat bitch (Uh-uh)
Fly the Mulsanne like a plane, a boss behind tint
and flipped it hopped on a jet to smoke by the bay
All of this cash abundance I’m feeling myself baby what can you say
If you wanna learn how I’m living just
Roll up some shit, look like elephants thumbs
"Bagg it's yo time," said the watch on my arm
Bitches gon' milk 'cause I'm lit like a candle
I'm never
gettin' rings like Sonic
On the hang glide damn I'm so damn fly
This swag kill a nigga so hard
I just seen his man die
Stand by, I got bitches
workin' on nigga? (Um, you know, I got Curren$y album)
(And quietly workin' on my album, ya dig?)
Oh, I'm ready to brush my shoulders off and drop my next
the meter
3 stripes for life, I’m paid my Adidas
Fly senioritas, good time to meet us
4-20 after dark, down by seritas
Home of the Steelers, cat feelers
watching channel 4,
With his brains not expected home for an hour or more.
He's still drifting to and fro, like a yo-yo.
His wife is in the kitchen, fixin'
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