Lyrics:
I want a five-star bitch (yeah, Yo Gotti)
It's your boy Yo Gotti, I do grade A shit
I'm the realest nigga walkin', and this the remix (Yo Gotti
the folks and the lords.
The bloods and the crips and every ward lets roll
You gotta go- for what you know
If it's retaliation get low
When you get
and my baby, baby
Sade, Ain't nobody gotta know know know
We can keep it on the low low low low low
Sade, Ain't nobody gotta know know know
We can keep it
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
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
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
you want
I can whoop a Maserati, pulling up a donk
50,000 on yo watch, young nigga splurge
Pop a ace of spade bottle, sip a lot of syrup
Keep
the club I'm stunting on the couch,
Balling like a balla me and Gucci ballin' out
Shawty got it for the low who said it was a drought?
Swag run so hard man
(CityBoy)
(yeah, yeah) i feel like John Gotti
I’m whipping out the Audi
She giving me Yo Gotti
I’m feeling on her body
She feel it in her soul
and Gotti, it's Boo and Hova
Pop Cris if you like, my ice glist' in the light
I'm wit Roc-Land right, so I'm rich for life
I'm like Heaven, everybody wanna
just keep raking in the bands feel like Yo Gotti
Why you ain't talkin' to her? she a hoe prolly
Said she ain't that into drugs she took the whole molly
was snow
It's like I missed the summer, put it on my mama
Yo Gotti, he a Hall of Famer drill dealer
Yo Gotti, he be runnin' around real killers
Hush
I want a five-star bitch (yeah, Yo Gotti)
It's your boy Yo Gotti, I do grade A shit
I'm the realest nigga walkin', and this the remix (Yo Gotti
on the low-low
Creepin' on the low-low
I be rollin', I be rollin' solo
I'm creepin' on the low
Creepin' on the low-low
Creepin' on the low-low
(Haha, yo, Luda!
it's like a nine to five
I got my nina my fo'-heata beata by my side
I keep it tucked close when I'm on the West coast (West coast)
I keep it
it's like a nine to five
I got my nina my fo'-heata beata by my side
I keep it tucked close when I'm on the West coast (West coast)
I keep it on post
like, as if I'm smoking the bomb (boom)
And hit 3's as my D's shine
And keep it gangsta
[Chorus]
Dogg Pound Gangstas ba-by, Dogg Pound Gangstas
Dogg
she was on a nigga airtight
It won't no what's up it won't no hug I shook my head twice
You thinking we bros you broke the code I found yo hoe and bent
gangsta shit
I say No Limit loud, cause we ain't scared of nobody
Organized by P or should I say, John Gotti
Real niggas, put ya guns up if ya feel me
But
[Yo Gotti:]
Hustlas And Gangstas Dont You Pout Block Burna's Keep
The Work In The Drought Keep You A Big Gun To Hold
You Down And Deal With A Nigga
ceilin' there?
Showin' off lil' mama, goin' hard lil' daddy
Yo Gotti home boy, I'm a walkin' dope package
I don't what it is, somethin' inside
I need
the 'dro, got her knees on the flo'
I put the big body up, come through in a Rover
Not only Kelly and Gotti, it's Boo and Hova
Pop Cris if you like, my ice
like to see ass and titties
Now bring yo' ass over here, ho
And let me see you get low if you want this thug
Now take it to the floor (to the floor)
a high speed
I make it look easy but its too hard to copy
Im a boss bitch I call shots like Jon Gotti
That choppa chop yo chop up like Hibachi
Why you
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