Lyrics:
don't know about Stand on business, we don't talk about it
Only time y'all in the street is when you beat your feet
Or they puttin' chalk around you I get
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
like the way you work it
No diggity (no diggity)
I got to bag it up (get up)
She's got class and style
Street knowledge by the pound
Baby never
[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
Homie, you ain't hitting on nothin'
Drop that top when I hit that butt
Pimp so hard it's a full time job
Swear, 12 stacks in my glove box
Bitch niggas,
of love
It produce the same action
Wicks full of flame
Made ‘em set it off in traffic
Stretch ‘em like elastic
Then you toe tag ‘em
I don't like
to the grave, haters got to behave
Learn by me, M-O-E from the one that street code to the game
I'ma maintain, I'ma let my nuts hang
I ain't scared to sip more
Light is shinin' beauty sunshine
Here comes one-time the ball was so fine
Heat is blazin' the kids were playin'
His partner was shady tryin'
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
drillin' ya for ya shit
On the streets for the sixth time in and out for the crime
I rates crimes add up in food stamp dollars and dimes
I'm slippin'
Shit be sick
Streets fucked up
Yeah
They like, "Gotti, don't do it"
But I already did, G shit
This the era of the slimes when niggas made it fine
a cliffhanger, no, I ain't a stranger
Yo, I'm Toddy Tee, and I'm a Compton banger
Wanted by the F.B.I. for transport of
Sucker MC's across the Syndicate borders
(feat. Juan Gotti, Baby Bash, Carolyn, Coast, Grimm, Low-G, Lucky Luciano, Powda, Quota Key, Rasheed)
[Verse 1: Juan Gotti]
Razaville Texas
tonight
I'm clever, only time we party, when we beat a body
Or when they free Gotti, so that means never
To my niggas in they cell wit a hour of rec
amazing
I amaze myself so appalled
Don’t need yo applause
Stands up react and get clap up
To close you need to back up
In a gang full of niggas that don’t
Brothers brothers brothers
I got shot
By the cops
One time pull up on yo block
Run yo pocks
Pick yo locks
Crack you wings saying fuck yo flock
Niggas send
I'm rapping now it ain't a joke
I see Girls fuck with me like Gotti
Every time they see me they like yo
I been making money way before the only thing is
Already bitch
Trunk full of yay bitch, PA to H Town nigga
Get on yo' money motherfucker
It's really goin down in the South
Sweet Jones biatch!
(Uh)
stand up, Got your mind's back right
Jerse's mobbin' these cowards all the time
You know gunning them down, Every thing like that
Smooth stayin'
antlers
Cancerous cause I ain't got no time to play
When I ask you a question
Answer is the lie where you lay
Lay where you die
Never wake up die where you
I’m getting high (Getting High)
Rolling on percs and my bitch on a molly (Perks, Molly)
I’m in the streets making money like Gotti (Gotti)
Hoe, I do not
on the highways of rap
Choked up by the smoke and the charcoal
A lotta stamps and brands, we like a barcode
I'm bashin' all the media strikes to keep the media
on the highways of rap
Choked up by the smoke and the charcoal
A lotta stamps and brands, we like a barcode
I'm bashin' all the media strikes to keep the media
on the highways of rap
Choked up by the smoke and the charcoal
A lotta stamps and brands, we like a barcode
I'm bashin' all the media strikes to keep the media
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