Yo Gotti Buy Out
A hundred miles and running, n..ers going at the end
of me
N..ers switching sides, give me nothing like it’s the
end of me.
N..ers having family, but I know these n..ers into
me.
Pown me, thug it to the motherfucker sin is me.
Imma train the topic time down, bitch, I’m riding in a
‘rarri.
If you don’t like me, than I’m sorry.
I ain’t og, I’m just being me, f..cking pretty clear.
I rap about this shit, ‘cause I did it.
Life don’t change, neither do the game,
N..ers getting money, but the rules stay the same.
Who I’m gonna sound with, who I wanna ground with?
That’s my only question, n..er, see ‘em G I’m down
with.
Cocaine mirrors, cold money guns, every n..er I f..ck
with with the g I make them bun,
So I never leave the house without my chain on my gut,
Got on my old boy Gucci so I fresh pearl once.
See, n..er, see, I feel like I wanna release, n..er,
I got to face earth, you know what I mean?
And then I got nothing to do and get no money
And that, n..er, that be a hundred.
That be a hundred with yourself, that be a hundred with
the n..ers,
A hundred with you, you know what I mean?
Man, I got a lot of young n..er around me, n..er,
And that’s straight of low life family, n..er, could
kill for each other,
That thing is real.
Murder was the case, n..er, jump a hoardal with a race
n..er, down
Then I put it in your face, to the face, on my case,
n..er,
Told my lawyer go to trial, I’m doing it big in the
meanwhile.
If I lose, place a riot for me, if I die don’t stay
fire for me,
Pour on some liquor and get higher for me,
I’m doing this thing for my home boys,
I have it, oh, lord, so surely can avoid.
I came here speaking from my heart for some time around
Am I a real rapper or just a n..er on lands?
I don’t know, I’m confused, do I suppose to be rich?
You know that hoe ain’t your hoe, she’s your supposed
to be bitch.
No supposed to be clip, I want no allias,
You see ‘em G, homie and we don’t franchise.
I get green gas off the whipe ass, don’t get in that
pot
And he get bout time.
Hallelujah, bless my shooters, serve my jazle, watch
him hit that shooter.
F..ck that rap shit, I don’t fit in,
How they f..ck boys, how they fake friends.
Streets on fire, plug on gold mode, streets so damn
dry, I might get a truck load.
F..ck your country, I won’t sign it, labels keep calling
me, but I don’t call back.
