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lirik lagu john gotti – kevin gates

[intro:]
real n-gg- radio! f-ck!
sometimes i tell a b-tch, and we shut up and p-ss the weed
sometimes i tell a b-tch, and we shut up and p-ss the weed
sometimes i tell a b-tch, and we shut up and p-ss the weed
free my n-gg-s!
i been smoking… and wish i was with ’em
free my n-gg-s!

my cousin cj tried 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
gonna be a god in new orleans like that n-gg- diamond.
landlord in the south like my n-gg- lucio
call … in front of david way screeching free lucas!
f-ck that n-gg- b-tch, i got the same feeling …
b-tch on a … b-tch, i just got off the phone with him
my old friends faking, sending me the wrong signals
my dog recorded conversations, man, what’s wrong with ’em?
you got them college n-gg-s forward, i be with stone killers.

you’re doing bad before they switched thumb
when you’re out of power, it’s over
everybody love you when you feed the streets
when you leave the streets, they don’t know you!
brooke used to love me till another n-gg-
with a bigger check approached her
up in d out, when i was calling home
she was at the n-gg-‘s house smoking.
i was trying to go to church as a family
but hunter, he won’t be going.
all the 87 was unsurprised, i went and bought that four
texting, saying someone that i love
let him use his whip as a loaner.
praise be to god, everything done in the dark really come back on you
cocaine flipper, got the same n-gg-s i came with, and we rolling!
in the studio with my n-gg- hood,
but them n-gg-s round him, they p-ssy
gangster sh-t, get to going platinum,
they’ll sit around and be looking
i’m so depressed i’ll kill myself,
would somebody go head and cook me?
f-ck!

hook:
bet a lot p-ssy n-gg-s want to murder brasi
boulevard mary logo and a maserati
b–by, black gunner, and man they still gonna catch a bad -ss
and if you f-ck around with razor, b-tch, i’m out my body, huh
sideways, coupe be out my body!
whole clique pull up in … b-tch, 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, john gotti!
feel the sh-t, this ain’t a hit,
i feel like john gotti, john gotti!
it ain’t sh-t 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 razor wet, and i don’t know another just like it
i love bunker, but despite the love, i don’t know what made him dislike it
but me and gunner in the porsche truck, and we screeching off like lightning
fast, doing the dash, your b-tch on my -ss, she want me to smash
flip out and flash, i’d rather get cash
drinking, she bad and she in the bags.
up in the louis, you’re merely a gucci
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
get that!
i’m bout my business, and back selling sand!
i’m bout my business, and back selling sand!

packed up my bags and jumped out on the freeway
say house where the heart is, don’t know where i’m going
activist drinking, i’m leaning and pouring
those who don’t get it say, ‘what are you on?’
my mother had s-x with an angel
born in a martyr and ain’t even know it.
driving on low while the side of my porsche
beat the f-ck out a b-tch, ain’t no slamming my doors
i’m only excited by spiritual things, and i swear i can’t wait to move on
all my n-gg-s i lost my mission,
can’t wait to be with you, i’m on my way home!
when they flip the script without warning
talking about sh-t you never did for ’em
god bless you and break in your body
wish i would let you dig in my pockets
lazy -ss b-tch, get up and start grinding
out on the streets, you never been balling
finally got blessed and money started piling
got my first mil, a n-gg- ain’t smiling, wiling.

- kevin gates

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