Lyrics:
the Eastside of Long Beach, that's 2-1 Street
See we, live and die by the gun and the knife
And I, high as a kite, corrallin through the night
Ha ha, stackin'
[Lil' Gotti]
Now why dey want to see me dead niggas put prices on my head
Now I got two Rottwielers by my bed
Niggas afraid to see a Gambino
don't want no relations, she posting pictures naked like I'm supposed to care
I ain't tripping baby, you for the streets so I leave you over there
So yo
Roddy (Slut), We blowing biscotti She know ima big Cat Run wit the mob don’t get yo ass robbed they call me John Gotti, smoking big pack gas just fuck up
yo
It's got a hold on me
The streets won't let me go i'm in love
It takes it's toll on me
When I try to leave it alone
I can't say no to the gangsta's
niggas give it up (Repeat x2)
Crime life!
(Lil' Cease)
Yo, yo!
When it's on it's on, writing's on the floor
Guts in his bed, the blood's on us all
like John Gotti
I don't need no friends
They gone get you in the end
Say he got a chopper that cut up
And got his ahh blend
All up in the streets
Got
[Product G&B]
Oh yeah.. (G&B)
Ohhhh.. oooh yeah (M.O.P.)
Oh-ohhhh, ooooh (yeah)
Oh-ohhhh (Primo bring it back, uh-huh, yo)
Oooooh-ohhh,
and yo kids
So true to the street life that you willing to take the bid
For something that don't concern you I guess it is what it is
'Cuz you won't
Yo he got 'em done
Nobody to run to, what succumb to
My nigga just wanted to eat
Now he hunted on the street
Tales from the hood, trails of blood
Yeah
to the holly
Turn around ya body and ya got me
Bad lil hottie an we outie
I am the bag I don’t got it by me
I am the Don No John Gotti
Dunk on somebody Like
You are watching a master at work
Is this what you want?
Got your attention
Ask, are you watching closely?
Shapeless, like water
Yeah
Yup
Yo ayo
the Eastside of Long Beach, that's 2-1 Street
See we, live and die by the gun and the knife
And I, high as a kite, corrallin through the night
Ha ha, stackin'
the middle of a cell
Fuckin' with me 'cause I'm a teenager
With a little bit of gold and a pager
Searchin' my car, lookin' for the product
Thinkin' every
the middle of a cell
Fuckin' with me 'cause I'm a teenager
With a little bit of gold and a pager
Searchin' my car, lookin' for the product
Thinkin' every
on the streets
No gloves pullin' knives out the 'fridge handin' out cold cuts
Ugh streets real thug so recognize thug close yo' eyes thug
You 'bout to die thug!
vision got us rich, catch a nigga flyin' by in a Lambo
Sippin' the Henny got me gone, now I'm gettin' in my zone, hey yo
R.I.P. to my nigga, the gallon
millimeter
The police was comin' I had ta dump the body
But like I said on the city streets I'm John Gotti
When it comes to the gangsta rap shit
I do
Probably cause I live by the art of for-keeps
I get indicted after my product's released
We a different form, a different centrifugal force
Every line is
You gotta, you gotta roll me one
She got a twin and I need the both of them
Streets can't hold me (ayy, ayy)
We're not friends, so please don't "bro"
a thousand-five cannons
Nigga gettin' it on
Peep out the window, I was solo flashin'in the streets
Caught by cops
I'm tell them bring some extra tape and plenty
fork, know he gotta make some good product
I shake n bake the jakes everyday put the ball in my court, come around here nigga get shot
Won’t have nun yo
Burnin' up shits you
And fuck it I won't miss you
A lethal weapon my profession
500 G's
500 G's that put inches n yo life
Surrounded by 500 please
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
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