Lyrics:
shots like Jon Gotti
That choppa chop yo chop up like Hibachi
Why you hating on a nigga like a Nazi
Aint no way no way a bitch can stop me
Told lil baby
doomed
Ain't no comin back, livin in the dope game
Cause once you die, nigga you slangin rocks, then that's yo name
On the wall when they run up,
I got
oooowwwweeee
My homie tryna put you on a pretty white t
Gotti Gotti i aint stutter i paint you red
Behind that one thats word to my mother
Jigga with that shotty
strangers
Top rap don, 'cause Daddy-O got me the dice game
It's reg or not, pockets love Trump Donald
Pack your work, move your plans to VA
Heat on the lock
them cold nights
Had to cut the stove on
Yeah I do my dirt by my doloey
No one to fold on
Who he told on
Yeah that nigga
Must got the code wrong
Kiccin
your hairline back, fucking with this sly cat
You know exactly what I'm talking about (Clue!)
You know the game and this life, what this thug about
One
the bass and that limelight glow
I know
(You thinking that this game is over)
Oh no
(The wait is over)
New York is back
Let me see your hands, wave 'em
G, and Drezz
Stack my money and have some kids
Gotti did just what it is
Cmg a hundred years
Day's been cold, just like my wrist
I'll be used
proper
And enough for one key I
See seventy thousand dollas
Now I was shootin' dice, smokin' on a joint
I bet with Yo Gotti
He hit five straight points
We
at
Push your hairline back, fucking with this sly cat
You know exactly what I'm talking about (Clue!)
You know the game and this life, what this thug
who gon' tell yo mother, her baby's under a cover in the morgue
Stiff as a log, sniffed out by the dogs
Son of a hard headed nigga that wouldn't
grams in the fuckin' spliff
Call it what you want I'm a zombie bitch I'm off this shit
Yo prada never gonna pile up
If you can't follow this game
there?)
Yo, hey yo
[Chorus 2X: Sheek and Redman]
Get up, stand up - throw your hands up
All my thug niggaz throw your motherfuckin hands up
Get up, stand
like right now, so check it out
Step to this and yo, you’ll get cold busted
Step to this and yo, you’ll get cold busted
Step up, bitch, you’ll get cold
[Gotti]
Yeah, no doubt, ugh
One time for the motherfuckin…
[Jazze Pha]
Yaw
This, is a Mannie Frishzzle, producshizzle, ha
My nizzle [whistles] I
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
Hey Gotti, Hey Chuck
How the fuck we gon' keep droppin this fire on these niggaz?
Know what I'm saying we killin' 'em on the radio
Then we jump
(Boww Boww)
Better then Ya top Five
Ni**a dead or alive
Rap game sleeping on me
Guess its time to wake em up
F**k Ya favorite rapper
Hogtie em
You not getting one up
Like to flex on these hoes
Remember that time I would sleep in the cold
I'm finding my way really cracking the code
clean like Gucci
And it's cold Burr like Suzy
It's October bet by New Years I'm that nigga
Yo bitch gone wan take a picture
Then she gone wan take her
Life is much mo' precious
Than you'll think
Like a game'll make yo chips sink
It's so hard
Hard to trust a smile and face
When niggas got
the lobby floor
I sign by the X, and get them O's
Tha-that's a kiss
People that just don't give a fuck
Tha-tha-tha-that's my niche, woo
My niggas rolling
yo' ass up
You know where we comin' from
Death Row! BIATCH! Ha ha hahaha!
A yo, Kurupt, you first to blast, nigga
And you know how we do it
gon' hit yo' ass up.
You know where we comin' from
Death Row bitch Ay yo Kurupt
You first to blast nigga and you know how we do it
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