Testo Off da Top - Yo Gotti
Testo della canzone Off da Top (Yo Gotti), tratta dall'album White Friday (CM9)
It's 3am West Coast time nigga
We at Fat Burger
Hood nigga rich shit gourmet burgers
Know what I'm talkin' 'bout?
She pussy poppin, pocket watchin', they call her a thot
Bad credit, cash it out, fresh up off the lot
No back and forth, yippin', yappin', niggas gettin' shot
10 million, 20 acres, that's the new spot
Flooded out my crib and told my dealer you the illest
Renegotiate my contract, told my label I ain'tt feel it
Fell out with my partner, he mixed friendship with our business
Broke up with my bitch 'cause she was too much in her feelings
I may fuck her friend, fuck it, I may fuck her friend
Between me and you, I always wanted to fuck her friend
If I kill a hater, Lord you gotta forgive my sins
That's one fuck nigga you ain't gotta worry about again
I'm forever thuggin', I ain't never changed
In plain colors but forever bangin'
Blowin' money but I'm maintainin'
Blowin' money but I'm maintainin'
I got a gamblin' problem but money can't really solve it
Tryna help all the real niggas, hate to see a nigga starvin'
Hate to see nigga robbin' they own people, shit, that's loyal
Bitch tryna give me the pussy for a Birkin bag, I can't afford you
I grew listenin' to 2pac and that Biggie, Jay-Z and that Nas
No gimmick rappers, these niggas had bars
Back when record labels turnin' real niggas into stars
Sendin' niggas to Mars, nowadays the game done got hard
You get shot that make you hot
But where I'm from that make you start
Before I be a pussy, I'd rather rapper had the balls
I throw me some guns, get myself a charge
Never see me do that, I came too far to look back
I did too much to get help, 20 mil in one year
100 grand in one night, 50k on one flight
I've been trappin' my whole life
Ain't no secret, I be thuggin', ain't no secret, I be hustlin'
Pickin' loyalty over money, money orders to my homies
Groupie bitches be all on me, leave your phones at the door
You won't put me on no blog, once I fuck, you gotta go
3am ain't nothin' open but IHOP
And a bitch legs, and my trap spot
I said 3am, I'm trappin' at the IHOP
And I'm connected to the plug like a hotspot
I'm a grower, we don't do droughts
Birds in the sky, we call them iClouds
You know the birds fly down south
I took your bitch to eat at Mr. Chow's
I met the plug at Benihanahs
On hibachi grills, eatin' rice and talkin' numbers
I don't do no middle men and I don't trust no runners
I'ma pay on time and I won't never take you under
I'm an OG dope boy
I ain't nothin' like these youngins
I don't take the dope I'm sellin'
I won't ever do no tellin'
Overnight my pack yeah, we call that FedEx
I ship in the 18 wheeler and I ain't talkin' UPS
Credits
Writer(s): Mario Mims, Joshua Luellen
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.