Testo F-U - Yo Gotti Feat.Meek Mill
Testo della canzone F-U (Yo Gotti Feat.Meek Mill), tratta dall'album I Am
Fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you
Tell that hater I said
Fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you
Tell your bitch I said
Me, ass up, face down
One night only, I'm from out of town
Count new rules, we ain't waiting on it
And if that pussy good, it's big cake on it
Plane ticket, hotel, new bag, new Channel
Giuseppe sneakers, his and hers
If you a hater I just got two words
Fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you
Tell that hater I said
Fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you
Tell your bitch I said
You and them bitches that you came with
All in my section, drinking my shit
You ain't fucking, you ain't sucking, what you doing, hoe?
Instagram, you taking pictures, you don't know me, though
Damn, she say she a fan
Yeah, I understand but I wanna get in her pants
'Cause she thinking for, 'cause she licking her tongue out
She say she don't fuck with rappers, I'm like 'what you talking 'bout, bitch?'
Fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you
I got two words for you
Fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you
Tell that hater I said
Oh, I said 'fuck 'em', I don't like 'em, I don't love 'em
When the money come, homies turn to haters, don't trust 'em
If the brick ain't coming with a stick I don't touch it
I want that beer medal with a scorpion when I bust her
Like a bitch when she twerking, y'all niggas working
Clown ass niggas, we should put you in the circus
In a cage with the lion, let it have you for desert
And test the fire of your army, took a dip in what you're worth it, nigga
Fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you
I met this bitch, she said 'my friend, she wanna'
Fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you
All in your room, but really, yo, I wanna
Fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you
And if I hear my roadie, though, he gotta fuck, too
Now put your middle fingers up and scream
Haters, nigga mad at the paper
Big crib, ten cars, twenty acres
Twenty chains, ten watches, all my jewels
Lil' watch with the jest, don't let it fool you
I could school you how to look like money
Hustler of the year, could write a book 'bout money
Don't park, don't bother tryna impress them hoes
What you read of money better tell them hoes, bitch
Fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you
Tell that bitch I said
Fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you
Tell that hater I said
Credits
Writer(s): Millie Jackson, Randy Klein, Mario Sentell Giden, Robert Rihmeek Williams, Marco Antonio Jr. Rodriguez Diaz
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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