ミュージックビデオ

クレジット

PERFORMING ARTISTS
EST Gee
EST Gee
Rap
Yo Gotti
Yo Gotti
Rap
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
George Stone III
George Stone III
Songwriter
Mario Mims
Mario Mims
Songwriter
Matthew Robinson
Matthew Robinson
Songwriter
Richard DeBerry
Richard DeBerry
Songwriter
Willie Hutch
Willie Hutch
Songwriter
Jay Jenkins
Jay Jenkins
Songwriter
Kameron Johnson
Kameron Johnson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
JayRich Laplaya
JayRich Laplaya
Producer
Mattazik Muzik
Mattazik Muzik
Producer
DJ Ryno
DJ Ryno
Mixing Engineer
Johngotitt
Johngotitt
Recording Engineer
Colin Leonard
Colin Leonard
Mastering Engineer

歌詞

I been through fake love from fame, all we got is our name And I still left the game amazed how my card's been played Eastside when I land, lose or win at the end of the day I spent my last five hundred, took a trip on a plane Turned it to five hundred bags, they went as fast as they came Even if the quality change, I still wrap it the same You can be scared or not, nigga, chop' still whack you the same And I've been shot five times, so now if I lack, then I'm lame It's just karma I got from shit I did back in the day Did it great in our lanes, bust downs, the factory planes From stealing testers to seller to a whole brick of cocaine Fuckin' with jigga before I ever had a meeting with Jay I was meeting my play, corner of Jacob and Clay I tell the truth to B.J. and Trey, I won't lead 'em astray Together we can keep it better, so when separate, we can't I invested in Hank, coat closet, my mama's the bank Geeski don't do it, the streets see your influence When the label asked my plan, they have they other artists do it Yeah, my favorite thing playing stupid Yeah, I understand niggas groupies And I understand how they movin' And they pieces, I gotta use 'em Buy they piece, don't take they jewel, shit be fake as hell I changed my life, foot aches and bales Bad bitch college apartments, baby, go check the mail Fake name on the box when it come, erase the paper trail It's the look, it ain't the smell, talk you into buyin' lows Text with my connect 'bout a bunch of shirts like I'm buyin' clothes It's a different code you gotta pick up on when you start buyin' loads It's niggas who was 'posed to make it out, but don't and that's just how it go Shit be sick Streets fucked up Yeah They like, "Gotti, don't do it" But I already did, G shit This the era of the slimes when niggas made it fine to cross they partners out Pocket watchin' nigga, then go gossip 'bout it Side with the D.A., take they partners out Call each other brother like they love 'em, fuck they talkin' bout? Hold up I'ma start the verse over, man I don't think these niggas heard me I said, this the era of the slimes when niggas made it fine to cross they partners out For real, nigga, I ain't rapped in six months, Gee got me out the house, fuck it, let's go I'm a legend and a felon, I ain't rapped in months Bulletproof Phantom million dollars, ain't drove the bitch once (pew, pew) Certified stones, 1.7 inside my tennis chain Do it by myself, if I get caught, it ain't no witness, man (Gotti, what makes you do it?) Loaded up them bricks inside my jet and then I flew it Landed in my city, dropped the price and ran through it Fell in love with Mexico, the lingo, I speak fluent ('migo) Invested my first million in the streets before I knew it (before I knew it) Yeah, I ain't even let this check dry, nigga, the ink on the check dry, nigga 'Fore I was calling the plug, you know what I'm saying? Told him, "It's up, nigga, I wanna triple that, what I got last time" (Man, that shit was in motion 'fore I came out the bank, nigga, you heard me?) I really turned a half a quarter to a half a brick (brick) Stayed down when it was rough and didn't complain for shit (Gotti, don't do it) And then I turned a half a brick into a whole load (load) I'm talkin' 18-wheeler trucks takin' up the whole road It ain't no apples and no oranges, this ain't nothin but 'bows (nothin' but 'bows) 'Fore I made a dollar off this rap shit, I was niggas' Ghost (I am) It was so many investigations, but he never told (shh) I'm watchin' niggas fold (fold), you niggas really hoes (hoes) And it shows Ayy, Gee, you know I'm just talkin' shit, man, you know, it's like I feel like I ain't even a rapper no more at this point I'm like a street professor or some shit, you know what I'm sayin'? Hah, EL TORO 2, nigga (bleh)
Writer(s): Mario Mims, George A. Stone Iii, Matthew Robinson, Richard Deberry Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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