Yo Gotti — Poppin’ Freestyle

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Текст песни Yo Gotti — Poppin’ Freestyle

[Verse]
Got a bunch of guns, but ain’t shot ’em
Why you got a bunch of guns, but ain’t shot ’em?
If you ain’t got no haters, you ain’t poppin’
When I be in the A, I be poppin’
King of Compound, ask [?]
I be dead fresh, I’m stylish
If water around the house, that bitch an island
Late night, got a bitch on Fallon
Brand new ‘Rari with the Rally stripes
I be in the kitchen, I’m the chef
Dope ain’t coming back, I got to get it right
Don’t make me fuck your bitch, that pussy poppin’
We be ballin’ like we hit the lotto
We some real niggas, that’s the motto
We be in the club, where the sparklers at?
I just sold a brick now I got [?] bread
Fell in love with a ratchet, but get model head
Boy I got the 40, it got hollow heads
And you a yes nigga, you a bobble head
My money out the banks and hit to Mexico
El Chapo just escaped, I’m trying to double that
Free Big Meech and Free [?], we need blessings
I’m a dopeboy, where the legends at?
I just moved to Miami with the [?]
Shoutout to Overtown and Opa Locka
I be with the Haitians in Little Haiti
Caught a dirty, damn near violated probation
Called my mama from the bank, told her we made it
Bitch asked me if the pussy good, told her I hate it
And she lyin’ to her friends, saying I ate it
But I only [?] on the head, we never dated
If you ain’t got no haters, you ain’t poppin’
Why you got a bunch of guns, but ain’t shot ’em?
Niggas watching in the closet, see you plottin’
Boy you a fuck nigga, you ridin’
Why you got a bunch of guns, but ain’t shot ’em?
Got a bunch of guns, but ain’t shot ’em
Why you got a bunch of guns, but ain’t shot ’em?
If you ain’t got no haters, you ain’t poppin’
[Outro]
This that big money shit, that executive shit
This that young nigga with the shirt off in the Lambo shit
This that park that hoe, come back in a ‘Rari shit
This that make these niggas jump off the motherfuckin’ bridge
You know what I’m talking about?
This that Sky Dweller Plain Jane on them Pussies motherfuckin’ buzz down drug
That bitch hate it, this that crib look like a small mall on them pussies
And we cash that out
You ain’t got no haters, you ain’t poppin’
You ain’t got no enemies, you ain’t street
Can’t be that likable Nigga
We built for [?]
CMG!
Art of Hustle
From this day on there is no understanding