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letra de paparazzi - yo gotti, est gee & cmg the label

[intro]
(foreverrolling)
yeah, yeah, yeah
yeah, yeah, yeah

[verse 1: est gee]
he must thought this sh-t was sweet, but it’s a sour patch (sour patch)
yankin’ all through tennessee, lost police like a hour back
he gon’ get found hit up if he diss us, that’s how i’ll react
ar out the window, make his trigger clap like jumpin’ jacks
it’s gon’ be a k!llin’ if we found out that you f-ck wit’ that
get low, i shoot this pole, chop’ make him limbo, no hittin’ back (ain’t no hittin’ back)
you heard somethin’ ’bout it, i can take you where they do it at (take you where they do it at)
they don’t want no zaza, this where snorters and them shooters at
raw, i mean, i started wit’ a ball and flippеd to two, three zaps
silly fool, kickin’ it wit’ dude like you ain’t know he rat? (you ain’t know hе told?)
you got picks and choose, i ain’t got no picks, all of ’em get this clip (all of ’em get this gun)
i up this bl!ck, i shoot, i ain’t gon’ miss, now when he talk, he spit (when he talk he spit)
playin’ tough, n-gga, you been a b-tch, like when he walk his switch (like when he walk his switch)
[verse 2: yo gotti]
(yeah boy, i heard you been a b-tch, you probably take ’em)
ayy, this that slide music (yeah)
grab yo’ bl!ck, go hit the switch, somebody died to it
some of these n-ggas ain’t k!llers, they actually murderers, they really in fifth (fifth)
i seen a n-gga poppin’ ecstasy (what?), blame the body on a pill (d-mn)
b-tch tried to hurt me (hurt me), i popped a perky (perky), b-tch, i’m good (i’m good)
numb to the pain (i am), my feelings don’t even exist (at all)
really if it’s ’bout a b-tch, n-gga (yuh), why it’s all the rich n-ggas?
executive drug dealer, who the f-ck raise you n-ggas? (who that?)
you ain’t never watch 48 hours?
you don’t understand law and power? (do you?)
i cherish this thing of ours, let me gon give my n-ggas they flowers (let’s get it)
rollie, rollie, richard ap, can’t buy time in these streets
don’t put time in these freaks, everybody shine, just not me
who you ever help, n-gga? (who?)
you only ’bout yourself, n-gga (facts)
you ain’t a boss, you ain’t got a trace
you ain’t a boss, you ain’t got the vision
seen this sh-t when i was in the kitchen
turned around, then i went and did it

[chorus: yo gotti]
walkin’ out of each state, wit’ a choppa on me (choppa on me)
d-mn, first it was the feds, now paparazzi on me (paparazzi on me)
(yeah, first it was the feds, now paparazzi on me)
[verse 3: blac youngsta]
headshot, bury him, dig him up, turn around, do it again (gang, gang, gang, gang)
i’m too consistent wit’ murder, my shooters gon’ do him in (bow, bow, bow)
when i up this fire, n-ggas gon’ sing just like a violin (gang, gang, gang, gang)
b-tch, you cross yo’ head, yo’ mammy, she gon’ miss her child then (p-ssy)
i’m cutthroat r-t-rded wit’ the draco, i’ll put you to shame (p-ssy)
n-gga play wit’ me one time, i swear that lil’ sh-t cost his brain (p-ssy)
walk ’em down, certified, streets’ll tell you ‘fore i got the fame
switches on my glock, all my young n-ggas, sh-t, i ain’t got no aim
(gang, gang, gang, gang, gang)

[outro: blac youngsta]
that’s crazy
first it was the feds, now paparazzi on me
that’s crazy g, you hear?
they still takin’ pictures though

- yo gotti est gee cmg the label

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