Lyrics:
faltan pa' llega' a lo' 20
Y son 21 que va a solta' este demente
(Yo')
Voy por do' minuto' matando un beat de Mandrake
Te va a da' un patatin, una
to bag me
That's why I never leave home without the 44
Ya'll hoes can't do nothin' to me
I got this game wrapped like a dubee
Pinned up in what?
Charli
and drugs nigga
Three to ya wisdom five more to ya mug nigga
How many more do ya love nigga
Cause I got plenty more to give out
I ain't never been
sampled singer, (buddha monk)]
You gonna make me spark somebody up (yo, you, you and you)
If ya keep on doin the things ya dooooo (don't make me do it!)
bitches in my bed
5 0 that’s the feds
6 7 got a mac 11 and the tips of bullets red
If 8 bands on yo head
9 times outta’ 10 ya’ dead
I got 2 feet
So I’m ten
Aye who them niggas over there looking all cfrazy man?!
Yo Polo What the fuck aye go pull over there man
aye aye skurt (gunfire)
Like John gotti I
What it do doc
This ya boy yo gotti
You know I'm affiliated with them affiliates
And this is gangsta shit
Dope money Gloc 40, make my pance
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
with my Gz like I’m gotti
C to the MZ with my Gz like I’m gotti
Ima take my time ima keep goin up
Keep that shxt witchu I don’t want yo luv
I need
the dark
Holdin' crosses 'cross your heart
Sin is such a work of art
Watch out for the love lost
Bet a thousand, shoot a thousand
Things a nigga do for
Already,
Know what I'm sayin' this Birdman and this how it's goin' down,
That little youngin' Yo Gotti I certified him stamped approval
but bitch I never voted
I'm out here on the streets motherfucker, tryin to represent
ya'll real niggas by staying independent (tru to the game)
afford to get a pink Bugatti
"Ayo, Nick, didn't you just do a hit with Gotti?"
That too, but my niggas send hits like Gotti
It's a wrap, like the things
down
[Chorus]
[Kurupt]
If I had a million dollars then I'd be rich
If ya ho was on deck then I fuck yo bitch
It's Gotti in the cut with the Don
artist done ran out of shit to talk about (Whoa!)
Yeah that's crazy and you think about it baby
Only thing that changed in yo rhyme was ya date "2000"
Oh
yo bring the wack on
I load the mic up and bust like a mack 10
While my DJ go wild, do a backspin'
Kick 'em down, one two, flights of four stairs
never I'm supposed to be
I chose to be on some Dark shit
Rip apart shit an' start shit, until whenever I depart, bitch
The hard shit will leave yo' ass
to this
Where ya'll at
Die for this
Throw guns up to the sky for this
Where ya'll at
Yo, You must wanna die
From the nigga you testify against
n****s man?
Nah man I'm puttin this s*** up
F*** dat man
Ya'll n****s want me to be a crook again
I know how to do that man don't even play wid
Me
off until everybody's gone
All Star homey, keep a hell of a price
Cash money still a army and I earn my stripes
[Chorus]
[Verse 2: Yo Gotti
Jeru The Damaja can damage you, I'll handle ya'
Two girls on my bike, one on the back, one on the handle bars
Ferrari F-130 so I call that bitch,
kept you shook
'Cause you know my gat big
Now one love ta the thugs on top
Pushin' rocks on the strip going out, bustin' slugs
Pumpin' rocks, do ya
can do
Ya niggas drinking Haterade, drinkin' my flow
Yo, Thugged Out, thug shit, right here mothafucker (real mothafuckin' shit right here)
Thug
and swallow too
I still say no, no is no, no can do
Ya niggas drinking Haterade, drinkin' my flow
Yo, Thugged Out, thug shit, right here mothafucker
.jpg/300px-The_Real_Thing_(1972).jpg "The Real Thing")
_ "Every Little Thing")
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