Lyrics:
links, yo
This case is mine
With all faith divine, say no more
Throw a Mason sign
The nerve of you, lyin' in court
We all heard of you bUGATCHI suit's
on the dick
Stand up on yo toes
Slowly rub yo tits
Slightly bite yo lip
Slow it down a bit
By now he fighting back
He bout to let it rip
Jump off catch it with
Your little plan was a flop
Tryin' to get em on by sellin' out the Kid Rock
A part of me was with you but yo he died,
And I'm glad you stepped off
(yeah)
I say I can make a rapper go to sleep by doin' one thing
Look, bitch, get yo' head bust for tryna play with us (baow)
Keep the picture, catch 'em
mouth shut forty seven sprayed
Prepare for the outcome and pray for my prey
Then we getting shotty kill a biting nigga with young gotti
Then we eat
sheets, ayy
(Skrrt, skrrt)
Flip phone same color as Yo Gotti teeth, ayy
(Skrrt, skrrt) soulja racks (Racks)
Hopping out the soulja coupe (Skrrt)
Talibans
Pronounced un-cuffed with the hoofs pound
I'm Kurupt, Young Gotti, the Headless Horseman
I'm the one that started off extortion
Contortion began to spread
Gon' gun you down
I got a gun with a leg, nah
Just a long ass clip
I need some super head, yeah
From a bad-ass bitch
And I pop out with two thousand
partna
Speak on him yb or gotti
Then its a muthafuckin problem
Ar's semis automatics
Talking straps then we got em
I'm in the field wit a hit stick
Nigga
Roll that shit up
Blaze till you cough barf or hiccup
I know it ain't the best
But it's my favorite pick up
I'm dealing with some stress
Spent my dollars
on my Audi
In the back of the back with a cat head bobbing
Private or public
I don't care who's knocking
Until you cum out yo guts I don't quit
I ain't
fuck that
These niggas want to try me
Shit I'm cool with that
We can shoot the one or box it out
Or we can grab the straps
My people about that action
V12 is roaring,
Flying through the city with the pedal to the floor then,
I put them 26 inches on the curb, tell the hood I'm back,
Give me a corner,
and spit a jewel
We keeps cool, no need for static, i strap tools
Next up!
[e-dub] yo i believe that's me
[pmd] yo, get on the mic and rock
Que te pasa, you ain't even in my clasa
I'm the wrong one to fuck with
Drive-bys in the truck quick
Fuck you, suck dick, ha
You ain't got no wins in
and freeze it
E I rock with the blood of Jesus
Cover my body my technique is MURDA, Irv Gotti
This lyrical seminar got my signature
Written in black, gangsta
And nothing but trap
Do nothing but rap
Shake nothing by ass
If they ask, we know trap
And nothing but trap
Got nothing but straps
Blow nothing but racks
If
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
by
Ke 632 dai deng my guy
Young nigga out here tranna modify
I got caught up with no strap almost died
My nigga i saw heaven with my own eyes
I was all
that?
Twenty five with an L, three strikes and you can't post bail
How many niggas is you gonna catch without a strap
And at least an ounce of yayo
thing, light skin
Niggaz will body over her like fuck it
With a scar by her left eye
Her brother Alex was extremely close, he sold coats and minks
Had
Aye
Shawty throwing it back
Got a bitch by my side, and she carrying my strap, like
Lemme count up my racks
10k on my neck, and I still got hella
Stomping in the party
Kurupt, Young Gotti
I'm fucking something in this bitch
Hit 'em with some gangsta shit
Put something in your mouth bitch real tasty
I'm
I use these bars like bullets Ima leave the beat bodied
I'll kill a beat or 5, charge me like I'm John Gotti
Boy mobbin through the town actin
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