On God (feat. Gucci Mane & Cootie)
Gucci ManeBiC FizzleCootie
On God (feat. Gucci Mane & Cootie) 歌詞
Tay Keith, f***uck these niggas up (Ha)
(Fizzle, go)
Designer, my body on focus
Really been runnin up commas, you notice?
Right on the block where Im posted
How he a trapper, play sports and a poet?
1017, Im with Wop and them boys
Fizzlell mind it, but far from the boards
Still in the hood, goin fast in them tours
Straight out the woods, hear that shit in my voice
Step in, step out, one feet in the industry, one in the trap
Backside Im stretchin, Im doggin her out
Teach you a lesson, that just like the math
Calculate, pound after pound after pound
Re-up, I get em gone outta town
Feet up, step on a nigga, he frown
So Icy Fizzle, the talk of the town
On God, Im from the bottom, I beat all the odds
I watched scammers get rich off fraud
Glock .43 front seat when I ride
Lean to the side, after robbin, I slide
Straight out the jungle, that youngin survived
That hunger and hustle, its stuck in his eyes
Switch on the blick, now it rapidly firin
Claimin they step , but niggas be lyin, on God
Feelin like the man when I step in
Ridin in the Trackhawk, you know I keep the FN
Ice all over my neck
Make you wanna find which car had a wreckin
Ol girl thick as my drink
Let her come chill in the trap with the dope man
Tell the lil nigga, 'Dont play with me'
Nigga, Im the boss, you the motherf***uckin doorman
Know I got drip like a sink
B*t*h, Imwith Guwop, I might just go buy me a mink
Nigga, I dont cap, I trap
Before the deal, I had that ice on my link
Put this shit all in my mouth
So Icy my grill, nigga might freeze up the drink
Nigga reach for it, hell die
B**ch, Im a soldier, I should go buy me a tank
Move like a top boy, you aint a real trap nigga
Move on your block, make it real, real hot
Granny like, 'Boy, whats wrong with that phone?'
Gotta turn the ringer off cause it never, ever stop
Know I make the hotline bling
Bust down Cartier, know I had to freeze up the watch
MVP of the trap, nigga might pull up to the spot with a bust down pot (Go)
Gucci Mane the real La Flare and we do real big business here
I turn men to millionaires, leave with two gold souvenirs
Coke all in my fingernails, all white like some Nouveau nails
I trapped out my younger years, my mama shed so many tears
Eatin two too many pills, he dont even know how to feel
Try to meme us, dont wanna live, brains all on the steering wheel
Guwop, Im a valley boy, but not from that Cali, though
Bouldercrest my addy, ho, this shit just like Dekalio
Niggas never play with me with all them f***uckin local jokes
My plug dont even speak no English, b*tch, this aint no local dope
Got the type of millions, make your kinfolk start trippin
The way this money flippin, got my shooters ridin Bentleys
(On God)