Put Em On A Shirt (feat. Yo Gotti)

I'm getting high 'cause my **** gone

And every day it's getting worse

My brother died on a Sunday

I think he should've been in church

Spent all night in the traphouse

I was whipping up the work

On the block when them Glocks out

We might put 'em on a shirt

I'm getting high 'cause my **** gone

And every day it's getting worse

My brother died on a Sunday

I think he should've been in church

Spent all night in the traphouse

I was whipping up the work

On the block when them Glocks out

We might put 'em on a shirt

Swear to God I never paid for a shooter

Free my dawg, Lord knows I can't lose you

They say thirty million dollars, you a new you

That's a lie man, the money made me cuckoo

Hits in the streets like the billboard

Sneaker money, lil' ****'ll kill for it

Baguette AP, I paid a deal for it

Five hundred K, this the big boy

Heard you seen an opp and you froze up

Me, I got the drake in the rose truck

Soon I seen the tint, know I rose up

A **** got beef, you know I showed up

Never forget the shit the OG **** told us

Rapping the rap game 'cause these corporate **** owe us

Keeping it gangsta, these **** know that we the culture

RIP Sauce, a **** lost a soldier

Pack came on a Monday

Feds busted on a Tuesday

Nobody knew that the pack came

But my boy so that confuse me

They switched up once the money came

And that's the quickest way to lose me

They only comment when the beef on

I think these **** trying to use me

I'm getting high 'cause my **** gone

And every day it's getting worse

My brother died on a Sunday

I think he should've been in church

Spent all night in the traphouse

I was whipping up the work

On the block when them Glocks out

We might put 'em on a shirt

I'm getting high 'cause my **** gone

And every day it's getting worse

My brother died on a Sunday

I think he should've been in church

Spent all night in the traphouse

I was whipping up the work

On the block when them Glocks out

We might put 'em on a shirt

Rest in peace all my dead homies

Tired of singing that sad song

I just been rolling and geeking, these meds strong

I get high till I head home

We don't play with them deads

We doing them dead wrong

Boy, you best keep your head on

Don't come on this block, that's a red zone

I got a few packs, put my mans on

I learned how to trap, I was hands on

Felt the keys for the first time, I'm a young Stevie Wonder

I swear to God, man, this life'll make you wonder

Brody then got the chopper, bet he make it stutter

Glizzy on me, up it slicker than some butter

And I'm from the streets so I had to pick the gun up

Can't cross me, shorty, 'cause I'm always running

Had a long night, working hard till the sun up

How you trade on your man? You so dirty

Boy, don't tweak with the Klan, we tote 30s

I told mama yo boy a man so don't worry

Only put my trust in these bands, it don't hurt me

Only smoking exotic gas, my eyes blurry

I just poured a four with my man so I'm slurring

I just did the digital dash, now I'm swerving

I just had a talk with my mans, I hope he heard me

I'm getting high 'cause my **** gone

And every day it's getting worse

My brother died on a Sunday

I think he should've been in church

Spent all night in the traphouse

I was whipping up the work

On the block when them Glocks out

We might put 'em on a shirt

I'm getting high 'cause my **** gone

And every day it's getting worse

My brother died on a Sunday

I think he should've been in church

Spent all night in the traphouse

I was whipping up the work

On the block when them Glocks out

We might put 'em on a shirt