Testo John Gotti - Kevin Gates
Testo della canzone John Gotti (Kevin Gates), tratta dall'album Luca Brasi 2: Gangsta Grillz
Bet a lot of pussy niggas wanna murder Brasi
Boulevard, Mar-a-Lago and a Maserati
Boobie Black, Gunna, and Menace still will catch a body
And if you fuck around with Rayzor, bitch I'm out my body
Sideways, skrrt, coupe be out my body
Whole clique pull up in 'Vettes, bitch we out our body
And you ever disrespect it, then it's kamikaze
I just be with me a shooter like I'm John Gotti
I feel like John Gotti
(Put your hands down, when you talkin' to me, bitch)
John Gotti
'Cause it ain't shit to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti
It ain't shit to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti
My cousin CJ tryna to hit me with a brick of raw
In Alexandria, it's nothing for to get it gone
With music, I ain't won awards, but I kept it gangster
Gon' be a god in New Orleans like that nigga Daymond
Landlord in the south like my nigga Lucci
Corvette in front of David Ways screeching free Lee Lucas
Fuck that nigga bitch, I got her saying free Lee Lucas (free Lee Lucas)
Beeto and Bryan bitch, I just got off the phone with em
My old friends hating, sending me the wrong signals
My dawg recorded conversations, man what's wrong with him?
You got them college niggas fooled, I be with stone killers
Bet a lot of pussy niggas wanna murder Brasi
Boulevard, Mar-a-Lago and a Maserati
Boobie Black, Gunna, and Menace still will catch a body
And if you fuck around with Rayzor, bitch I'm out my body
Sideways, skrrt, coupe be out my body
Whole clique pull up in 'Vettes, bitch we out our body
And you ever disrespect it, then it's kamikaze
I just be with me a shooter like I'm John Gotti
I feel like John Gotti
(Put your hands down, when you talkin' to me, bitch)
John Gotti
'Cause it ain't shit to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti
It ain't shit to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti
Praise to Allah, I was born a god, with the murder game I'm righteous
Cancel shows just for Rayzor wedding, I don't know another just like it (I love)
I love Bunker, but despite the love, I don't know what made him dislike it
But me and Gunna in the Porsche truck and we screeching off like lightning
Fast, doing the dash, your bitch on my ass, she want me to smash
Flip out and flash, I'd rather get cash
Dreka she bad and she into bags
Up in the Louis, Emilio Pucci
I tell 'em it's Gucci when they want them bands
I got them racks and no longer wear jewelry
'Cause I'm bout my business, and back selling sand
I don't get tired
I'm 'bout my business, and back selling sand
I'm 'bout my business, and back selling sand
(I'm 'bout my business, and back selling sand
I'm 'bout my business, and back selling sand)
Bet a lot of pussy niggas wanna murder Brasi
Boulevard, Mar-a-Lago and a Maserati
Boobie Black, Gunna, and Menace still will catch a body
And if you fuck around with Rayzor, bitch I'm out my body
Sideways, skrrt, coupe be out my body
Whole clique pull up in 'Vettes, bitch we out our body
And you ever disrespect it, then it's kamikaze
I just be with me a shooter like I'm John Gotti
I feel like John Gotti
(Put your hands down, when you talkin' to me, bitch)
John Gotti
'Cause it ain't shit to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti
It ain't shit to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti
Credits
Writer(s): Kevin Gilyard
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Disclaimer:
i testi sono forniti da Musixmatch.
Per richieste di variazioni o rimozioni è possibile contattare
direttamente Musixmatch nel caso tu sia
un artista o
un publisher.