Tag: Yo Gotti

Yo Gotti – I’m Out ( Lyrics Lyric ) Letra Yo Gotti Yo Gotti – I’m Out ( Lyrics Lyric )
Intro
See, I look at this shit like football, you know what I’m sayin’?
Ayy, this that NFL, nigga (June, you’re a genius)
Never felt love
Never found love
And of course
No fake love

Verse 1
I survived the streets (Streets), and never been touched (Touched)
They call it manifestin’, I just never lost a crush
Niggas actin’ sus (Sus), you should call ‘em sis (Huh?)
And I ain’t homophobic, you just actin’ like a bitch
Free that nigga— that shit foul as it gets
Openin’ up the ‘Gram, watchin’ his homeboy snitch
Hurt me to my heart (Heart), sickness in my stomach (Stomach)
Seein’ him in that courtroom make me wanna vomit (Ugh)
Interlude
Ayy, free them niggas for real
Ayy, we prayin’ for you, my nigga, we know what you goin’ through

Verse 2
I got rich and started stressin’, this a curse or it’s a blessin’?
We spend millions on security, but they still ain’t no protection
I’m in NY with my weapon (Weapon), I’m in LA with my weapon (Weapon)
I’m on offense, I’m on defense, play with me, I’m star steppin’
My Phantom just get driven (Driven), I wake up with adrenaline (I’m nervous)
We never said don’t love your bitch, just don’t put her in your business (You heard me?)
That’s pressure on your children (You heard me?), they mama now a witness (A witness)
Her family just diss him because that shit can’t be forgiven (And that’s that)
Big Gotti, yeah, I’m cocky (Cocky)
Three-carat tennis chain on my bitch and that shit rocky (Rocky)
Yeah, I ain’t talkin’ boxin’
Floors full of white and ice, no hockey
Pots on stoves, niggas cookin’ it like hibachi
Niggas fuckin’ up the re-up, steady stackin’ up the profits
Runnin’ ‘round here flexin’, buyin’ watches
Ma, I pray these niggas stop it
Only postin’ on my socials, ‘cause I ain’t social
Ayy, that’s Gotti, he paranoid, don’t approach him
And you know he got that toaster
And you know he havin’ motion
Somethin’ big, one in the head, that shit ain’t sittin’ inside no holster
Ain’t never acceptin’ no ho shit, that nigga there gon’ be vocal
Just bought a crib on the coastal, he ain’t goin’ back and forth with no locals
Ain’t goin’ back and forth with no dealer
You want a bad bitch, you can build her
See, I’m the type that don’t kiss and tell
I’ll never buy a bitch a BBL
But I’ll buy a ho a lot of Chanel
Make a wish, I’m a well (Well)
I’m a gangster and a player (Player)
How she yours if you pay her?
How she mine, half-naked?
On the ‘Gram, can’t respect it (Can’t)
Real nigga, I’ma check it (Check it)
Know the brand, protect it
Reputation and relationships, gotta know your worth
That’s a Birkin with no money in it, bitch, you livin’ out a purse
And I can’t believe you niggas talkin’ on these phones (For real?)
Callin’ from a jail like you alone, you niggas ain’t tryna come home
Damn, they said on the call that they recordin’, you not listenin’? (This call is subject to recording and monitoring)
I don’t get it, ‘cause you ignorin’ it
And I just seen a father (Father), tellin’ on his son (Disgusting)
And I just seen a drug dealer (A drug dealer?), tellin’ on his moms
I’m officially out these streets, nigga (It’s over), what have it become?
I got principles and morals, but my feelings all numb (Shh)
Outro
Where I come from, every day you wake up, every day you leave the house, you takin’ a chance on
Goin’ to the federal penitentiary or gettin’ killed
All my closest friends gone
You know what I’m sayin’? I know what come with this lifestyle, like
That’s why I trip off on these—
That always wanna specify how much they in the street and how much they wanna be street in they hood
Nigga, where I come from, you tryna get out the hood
That’s the obstacle, nigga
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Yo Gotti – Pop My Shit ( Lyrics) Letra Yo Gotti Yo Gotti – Pop My Shit ( Lyrics Lyric
Intro
Pop your shit
I been pop, pop, poppin’ shit
Let me pop my shit

Chorus
Yeah, let me pop my shit
Niggas flat out hatin’ (For what?), you ain’t no opp of shit
Ha, yeah, and we opposite
I be on that straight get to the money, don’t make me drop some shit
Verse 1
You might catch me in a tux’ (suited)
Factory on the Phantom and you pussies know what’s up (know what’s up)
Bowtie on my collar (Collar), hundred thousand dollars
Got my slippers sayin’ Prada
And my ho don’t give me problems
My net worth unidentified, I got twelve million in watches (Woo)
I’m a street nigga, I know how to hide it, got forty million in property (Woo)
And it’s all there
Why you tough-ass niggas be shootin’ at God? Y’all hittin’ all air
My cars ain’t no flex to me
Any bitch stand next to me, she gotta put my ex to sleep (Okay, okay)
Shе can’t get these racks from mе, gotta arch that back for me
Wake her up, put her back to sleep (Yeah)
Wake her up, tell her rub my feet (Okay)
Tell the world how you fuck with me now

Chorus
Yeah, let me pop my shit
Niggas flat out hatin’ (Hatin’), you ain’t no opp of shit
Ha, yeah, and we opposite
I be on that straight get to the money, don’t make me drop some shit (Pah, pah)
Yeah, let me pop my shit
Niggas flat out hatin’ (Niggas hatin’), you ain’t no opp of shit
Ha, yeah, and we opposite
I be on that straight get to the money, don’t make me drop some shit
Verse 2
Seven days a week, I can fly private if I wanted to (Yeah, yeah)
I’m consistent, I won’t ever let up if I wanted you
I’m persistent, I see every detail and won’t skip a step
Real leader, won’t tell my dog do somethin’ I wouldn’t do myself
We pick up Chanel (Chanel), and we leave Fendi on the shelf
Your rocks big as hell, went to the jeweler, couldn’t help myself
Million in a duffy, bought my son a fluffy
Plug trust me, weed musty
Streets love me and I love ‘em back
Gave my bitch a million, she been turnin’ up, don’t know how to act
Here’s another million, better flip that shit and bring it back
Real hustler, so that’s the type of shit that I attract
And she turn me on, ridin’ that dick and talkin’ ‘bout a sack

Chorus
Pop your shit
Yeah, let me pop my shit
Niggas flat out hatin’ (Niggas hatin’), you ain’t no opp of shit
Ha, yeah, and we opposite
I be on that straight get to the money, don’t make me drop some shit (Pah, pah)
Yeah, let me pop my shit
Niggas flat out hatin’ (Niggas hatin’), you ain’t no opp of shit
Ha, yeah, and we opposite
I be on that straight get to the money, don’t make me drop some shit
Outro
I be on that straight get to the money
And we opposite
I be on that straight get to the money
Don’t make me drop some shit
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Yo Gotti – 1st Hunnid Bands ( Lyrics ) Letra Yo Gotti Yo Gotti – 1st Hunnid Bands ( Lyrics Lyric )
Intro
(Dee, you poppin’ your shit, nigga)
My first hundred bands
Thank the hood for my first hundred grand
Was runnin’ plays for my first hundred bands
Let’s thank the J’s for my first hundred grand

Chorus
My first hundred grand, thought I was a millionaire
My first hundred P’s in the whip, can barely fit in there (Woo)
Ten stacks of tens stacked in rubber bands (Bands)
Fives, tens, and twenties, my first hundred grand (Grand)
Verse 1
I grew up with nothin’ (Nothin’), watched my mama suffer (Damn)
Idolized my father (Father), looked up to my brother (Brother)
Both of them were hustlers (Hustlers), both of them were gangsters (Gangster)
Grandviеw Elementary, in sixth grade, I had a bangеr (Pow)
Always had a problem (Problem), couldn’t deal with my anger (Couldn’t deal with my anger)
Never talk ‘round bitches (Shh), never spoke ‘round strangers (Quiet)
I wanted to get money, somehow I ended up famous (How?)
But God know, my first hundred thousand came from slinging (Yeah)
Lord knows, I never been a pussy nigga, ain’t I?
My favorite room in the house the kitchen
Never goin’ broke ‘bout no bitches (Never)
It’s a difference ‘tween gettin’ money and trickin’
Hundred K on my missus
It’s a difference when you playin’ with a hundred million

Chorus
My first hundred grand (Grand), thought I was a millionaire (I am)
My first hundred P’s (Hundred P’s) in the whip, can barely fit in there (Woo)
Ten stacks of tens stacked in rubber bands (That’s a hundred)
Fives, tens, and twenties, my first hundred grand (A hundred)
My first hundred grand (Hundred) thought I was a millionaire
My first hundred P’s in the whip, can barely fit in there (Woo)
Ten stacks of tens stacked in rubber bands (That’s a huncho)
Fives, tens, and twenties, my first hundred grand (Yeah)
Verse 2
Started with an ounce (oz), better yet, a half (Half)
Nigga, I’m talkin’ fourteen grams still in the bag (Plastic)
Four O’s in a split (Split), it’s one twenty-five (Woo)
That’s a half a quarter (Quarter), I pay twenty-five (Cash)
Now I got a nine (Nine), that’s a quarter ki’ (Ki’)
I feel like the plug (I am), you can buy it off of me
Got a half a chicken (A chicken), got fronted a half a chicken (Give me that)
Now I got a brick (A what?) standin’ in the kitchen (Woo)
Microwave tricks, niggas showed my how to whip it (Whip it)
Summertime, I ran up a cool quarter ticket
I ain’t fuck it up (What I do?), re’d up, flipped it (What I do?)
Re’d up, flipped it (Flipped it), re’d up, flipped it (Flipped it)

Chorus
My first hundred grand (Grand), thought I was a millionaire (I am)
My first hundred P’s in the whip, can barely fit in there (Woo)
Ten stacks of tens stacked in rubber bands
Fives, tens, and twenties, my first hundred grand
My first hundred grand, thought I was a millionaire (I am)
My first hundred P’s in the whip, can barely fit in there
Ten stacks of tens stacked in rubber bands (That’s a huncho)
Fives, tens, and twenties, my first hundred grand (Yeah)

Outro
(Dee, you poppin’ your shit, nigga)
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Yo Gotti – Driveway Furniture ( Lyrics Lyric ) Letra Yo Gotti Yo Gotti – Driveway Furniture ( Lyrics Lyric )

Intro: DJ Drama & Yo Gotti
(Dee, you poppin’ your shit, nigga)
Uh-huh
Okay, right
Ayy
You see, back in ’06
We told y’all so
Can I speak to ‘em for a sec?
Gotti
I’m back
I think we should remind ‘em
Look
Verse 1: Yo Gotti & DJ Drama
GI certified, two carats in my tennis chain
3.5 the new Chiron inside my business name
Nigga, I survived the vultures, had to do this for my culture, had to go back and put cocaine white on everything (Gangsta Grillz)
So it’s fair to say a decade and a half later
We showed you niggas how to actually run the game
Can I speak to ‘em for a sec?
I’m back (DJ Drama)
Look
GI certified, two carats in my tennis chain
3.5 the new Chiron inside my business name
Nigga, I survived thе vultures, had to do this for my culture, had to go back and put cocaine whitе on everything (Cocaine Murzik)
Uh, Gotti in a ‘Gatti, I like how it sounded
Nine figures up, but I been stayin’ grounded (Stayin’ grounded)
Scoop a nigga bitch, then leave her how I found her
I’m Mr. Give-Him-the-Load ‘cause they know I’ll down it (Down it)
Skyscraper office, I should put a kitchen in it
And a rose-gold scale for when I’m reminiscin’ (Huh?)
Rose-gold Rollie, that’s the dope boy watch
Bando jumpin’, that’s the dope boy spot (Dope boys)
Droppin’ nothin’ but mixtapes from now on, fuck these charts (Gangsta)
We need Gotti back outside to get the streets back hot
It’s like Universal, Mexico, and Interscope my trap house
Every Friday come around, I’m tryna send a pack out
Bitch say she need therapy, I’m like, “Let me knock your back out”
She seekin’ attention, you know that’s when bitches act out
And I ain’t confrontational with bitches, that’s when I back out
I’m here for peace, not pussy, bitch, I’m dippin’, you get too loud, for real (Dramatic)
Interlude: Yo Gotti & DJ Drama
Ayy, you know how shit go, man, like
Bitches wanna go back and forth, forth and back (You know what I mean?)
Bitch, I ain’t got time for that shit (Uh-uh)
You know, time is money, man, I got big shit to handle, bitch
You feel me? (We back at it)

Verse 2: Yo Gotti
I need no distractions
Bitch just sent me five attachments like Glorilla said
You know Karrine Steffans, bitch, I want some super head
I recorded this in a week
Told John Janick to clear the schedule out, we releasin’ this for the streets
I been dream chasin’ all my life, sometime I think I’m Meek
Tryna break in my house like shit sweet, fuck around and got sweeped
I invite snakes to the grass, gotta kill what you eat
Why you strapped with security? If I go out, I’m goin’ out me
This the life of survival
Where I don’t trust allies, I look at them like my rivals
I don’t talk on the phone around my bitch or my driver
I don’t talk on the phone about no shit that’s incriminating
Nigga like, “Bring me that,” I’m like, “What you insinuating?”
Rat-ass niggas’ll try to put you in any case
Watchin’ niggas tell it, then say they didn’t cooperate
Shit crazy, we really seein’ niggas tell it, then say they didn’t cooperate
Interlude: DJ Drama
Amigo
You bring me one million cash and I will double it and drop it off at your doorstep
Gotti, show ‘em

Verse 3: Yo Gotti
Negotiations with the plug, ask what type of math for that
Numbers through the roof, and nigga, I’m payin’ half of that
I’m mister 90/10, nigga, I want more than half of that
I can drop a tape and you go platinum and won’t make half of that (Gangsta)
I’m a hustler, game giver
Hundred up and still I’m the same nigga
Me and my baby mama don’t even rock, but I bought her a Range, nigga
And you niggas depressed, takin’ painkillers
And you’ll lose your life ‘bout a chain, nigga
Go and slide on the opps, get caught, and turn around and tell on the same niggas
Forty million in real estate and twenty in stocks
A million dollars in security, but five hundred for a Glock
I told my brother and them, “Watch, I’ma get us out of this bitch
If you believe in the plan, we gon’ swap music with bricks”

Outro: Yo Gotti & DJ Drama
Phantom, Lamb’, Bent’, ‘Rari
And I don’t drive none of ‘em
Look good in front of the crib though
It’s driveway furniture (Dee, you poppin’ your shit, nigga)
Phantom, Lamb’, Bent’, ‘Rari
And I don’t drive none of ‘em
Look good in front of the crib though (Showed y’all niggas)
It’s driveway furniture
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Yo Gotti – The One ( Lyrics ) Letra Yo Gotti Yo Gotti – The One ( Lyrics )
Intro: Yo Gotti & DJ Drama
(Dee, you poppin’ your shit, nigga)
Gotti, you got one
Yeah, yeah
She the one
Yeah, yeah
She the one (Oh yeah)
Yeah, look
She the one
I gave my bitch a lil’ AmEx and told her to lay back and bought her a Patek too
I’m not comin’ home, I’m gettin’ to the money, bae, so don’t give me no attitude (Yeah)
I might not be holdin’ your hand, but givin’ you bands, I’m nothin’ like your last dude (She the one)
It’s Louboutin heels or Christian Dior of course if I buy her tennis shoes (Gangsta Grillz, you bastards)
She fuckin’ with us?
Yeah, yeah (She won)
She the one
Yeah, yeah (Baby)
She the one
You one of one
Yeah, look (Mr. Thanksgiving)
Verse: Yo Gotti
I gave my bitch a lil’ AmEx and told her to lay back and bought her a Patek too
I’m not comin’ home, I’m gettin’ to the money, bae, so don’t give me no attitude (Yeah)
I might not be holdin’ your hand, but givin’ you bands, I’m nothin’ like your last dude (She the one)
It’s Louboutin heels or Christian Dior of course if I buy her tennis shoes
Can I look you dead in your eye when we sexin’? (Sexin’), ‘cause I’m really into you
Yeah, you give me butterflies in my stomach (You do), like we still in middle school
And you give me nervous vibes when I’m missin’ you, girl, I’m a gangster and you got me kissin’ you
First time, it was some shit I’d never do
(She the one)
Bought her a Wagen, ain’t into braggin’
She want a bag, she know she gettin’ it
She know I ain’t arguin’, I’m talkin’ ‘bout regardless
So all that naggin’, I ain’t with it
I’m in the streets, I gotta get it
She lookin’ sexy, I gotta feel it
She all on the ‘Gram, I’m likin’ her pictures
Better unfollow all them niggas
I’m in the limelight, she in the limelight, whatever
Head on the turnpike, head at the red light, wherever
She say it’s on sight, I say it’s on sight, even better
I get the money, we fuck it off together
Welcome to Memphis, come check out my neighborhood
Come to the trap and see how we really do it (Yup)
First hundred thousand, first ten million
We blew that shit fast, yeah, nigga, we runnin’ through it
Make a wish, I’ll be your genie (I am)
Peerin’ out a Lamborghini (One)
Saint Lucia, no bikini
Baby, fuck me like you mean it (She the one)
Baby, fuck me like you dreamin’
If you wanna roleplay, I’m the wise guy (I am)
I heard all good girls have fantasies of fuckin’ on a bad guy (The one)
Can I watch you count five million in your lingerie?
Fuck a rose, this a Rolls-Royce (Yeah)
Every day like Valentine’s Day (For real)
Know my house like a getaway (Yeah)
Playin’ with you on the interstate
Hit the mall, blow a hundred K
Go to Paris for a dinner date
Start a business, I’ma be the bank
Do it all, never say you can’t
Bedroom, tryna make you faint
Real pressure, what the fuck you think?
Outro: Yo Gotti
She the one (Gangsta Grizzill)
The one
Yeah, nigga, she the one
The one
(Dee, you poppin’ your shit, nigga)
(Dramatic)
She the one
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Yo Gotti, Moneybagg Yo – Mind My Business ( Lyricss Lyrics ) Letra Yo Gotti Yo Gotti, Moneybagg Yo – Mind My Business ( Lyricss Lyrics )
Intro
Reporting live from Memphis, where crime is at an all-time high
It has been an absolutely terrifying season of violence
(Dee, you poppin’ your shit, nigga)
Leaving behind a rash of victims in the wake of the madness
City leaders are trying to sit down with some of the biggest influencers in the region
To help save the city from the carnage

Verse 1: Yo Gotti & Moneybagg Yo
I’m too big for these lil’ niggas who talkin’ that yap
I don’t like or follow none of these niggas, I’m sick of the cap
“Gotti, why you got security, but you still got a strap”
“Gotti worth a hundred million, grind likе he in the trap”
I have wеt dreams ‘bout my kitchen, I got trust issues with my bitches
Every gun inside my city, it got switches, I’m not kiddin’
I should sit down with the mayor, I should try to save my city
Then I think back to myself, I should mind my fuckin’ business
I told Bagg to swap the name up, not Bread Gang, it’s the Loaf (Boyz)
Only reason I’m droppin’ a mixtape is ‘cuz I still give em hope
Perfect timing, flawless diamonds, tennis chain ‘round my throat (icy)
Got a bad habit of lookin’ behind me cuz in my city it’s smoke
I got PSD, my house on PST, I live by EST
Burn one of you fuck niggas like STD, yeah that strap on me
No GPS, you DND, no iCloud, that’s FED
Only time you seen a house like mine was a AirBnB (Speak)
Verse 2: Moneybagg Yo
Every car you think about I got it
No car note, no lease (skrr)
Only time you seen a bitch like mine, yo’ timeline on IG (ha)
Niggas hate like hoes just ‘cuz they can’t get no money with me (poor)
Only time we seein’ eye to eye if you come buy front row seats (tour)
I could drop a money bag on your kufi
I play with paper don’t make me use it
Switch go ff, ff like a Uzi
Leave mo’ shells than Taco Tuesday
They pay me to host and I pull up and hop out the Ghost like I’m James St. Patrick (suited up)
Either a show or the gumbo
I’m really up off rappin’

Chorus: Yo Gotti
I should sit down with the mayor, I should try to save my city
Then I think back to myself, I should mind my fuckin’ business
I have wet dreams ‘bout my kitchen, I got trust issues with my bitches
Every gun inside my city, it got switches, I’m not kiddin’
I should sit down with the mayor, I should try to save my city
Then I think back to myself, I should mind my fuckin’ business

Verse 3: Yo Gotti
Pray for my city
Crime at an all-time high
These young niggas geeked, they ready to die
I ain’t no better, nigga, who am I
I’m a big dope boy, I ain’t no role model
Big strap in the club, sippin’ gold bottles
Them double Cs, you know my hoes got ‘em
You don’t get credit for bodies, you told ‘bout ‘em
Pussy ‘lil nigga, “Big Gotti” to you, I can pull up, Bugatti on you
Yeah, that’s a million a tie, four million for four
I record in the livin’ room, swingin’ the door
Movin’ the blow, I was livin’ by “Trap or Die” ‘fore I ran into Snow
This a movie, no
All you wannabe dope boys watching Scarface and Blow
Cut off your TVs and come to the trenches
Cut on the news and see who they mention
Know ‘bout the double cross, what ‘bout the triple?
Yeah, we call that shit “welcome to Memphis”
Say he a plug, he thinkin’ he Chapo
Fuck ‘round with me, I’ma knock off his taco
Rip shit out the plastic, cook it and bag it
Put shit on the floor, you thinkin’ I’m Latto
Chorus: Yo Gotti
I should sit down with the mayor, I should try to save my city
Then I think back to myself, I should mind my fuckin’ business
I have wet dreams ‘bout my kitchen, I got trust issues with my bitches
Every gun inside my city, it got switches, I’m not kiddin’ (Dee, you poppin’ your shit, nigga)
I should sit down with the mayor, I should try to save my city
Then I think back to myself, I should mind my fuckin’ business
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Yo Gotti – No Fake Love Letra yogottiVEVO Yo Gotti – No Fake Love
Boy, please, put your hands (c’mon) on the gangsta (c’mon) that
Fake love, I don’t even believe my bitches when they cry
Fake love (in the) I be have emotions (emotion)
Bag, I can’t give no emotions
In a phantom with a and now I’m with Angela
I ain’t lost a crush since high school
I’m Mr. Follow Up
Drinks, lookin’ like super ball (super ball)
I’m in the kitchen with this, superstar

No fake love
We was sellin’ wipe it
Lyrics, Letras, Paroles, Deutsche, Letras, Testi,Тексты, Texty, Norske, Текстови, Versuri, Persian, Liricí, Lirik, Nederlandse, Tagalog