Songtext zu 'King Shit (feat. T.I.)' von Yo Gotti

[Yo Gotti]
Oh this a hit, nigga
With no words on it

[Yo Gotti]
I got on two chains, no, I ain't Tity Boi
I'm dream chasing, but I ain't from Philly, boy
Bitch bad, and she said I can get it, boy
This a hit and I'ma make a nigga feel it, boy
My flow deranged, my swag insane and my campaign on ten
I like the bitch, she bad as fuck, but I'm really into her friend
House up on the hill, got it off of cocaine
Aventador Lamborghini, condo off of Biscayne
Bitch, I'm in my lane, fresh as hell, no stains
Robin's Jean with the stones, Giuseppes match my chain
I’m different, I was built for this, my bitch only rock Tiffany
You a rat, you’ll sing a symphony
And I’m back, street's been missing me
My watch silly, my clock ignorant, and I'm the king of my city
I'm ban'd up and I ain't in a band
But my flow just like an instrument
Bass, feel that, yellow tape of the trizack
Hating is a disease, pussy, where they do that?
(L.A. Reid, cut the check for me)

[T.I.]
King shit and you know what it is
Shorty smell like a pound of that loud
But a nigga look like a hundred mil
But I drive Ferrari, fuck the motherfucking dealer
Pay ten million for a mansion, that worth more than your opinion
I got racks all in my cargo pants
Extended clip with that hollow, man, yo bitch ass
If yo bitch bad, she get fucked fast, ain’t no romance
My diamond dancing in 3D, nigga
Like the Vegas strip when you see me, nigga
Your money wrong and my money long
And I'm playing with it like P.E., nigga
Real nigga, no joke, don’t think there, nigga, no ho
I got mini Mac-10 and a 100 round drum
In the carpet up under my car
And nigga, I don’t wanna smoke your weed
Plain gas the only thing I smoke
And I gotta thank God for the niggas off Bankhead
Shorty, they taught me everything I know
Like how to whip it, cook it, cut it, deal it
Hand it to your partner, let him flood it through the city
Really, we 'bout that action, you try us and we blasting
We turnt to the max, that’s a motherfucking fact
I'm a real nigga, fuck these rappers

[Yo Gotti]
Door up, doors down
When I’m in the club, bitch, it's going down
Shorty thick as fuck, hands down
Hands up, pants down
Down, down, shorty fucking head down
I see my phone blowing up, I know it’s going down
Once I busted at the rapper, then it hit the town
Chiefin' numbers in the city, boy, it going down

[Yo Gotti]
This that dope boy academy, them three letters been after me
The F.B.I. ever catching me, my family might witness a tragedy
Shorty open her legs up happily
I ball hard like an athlete
Young, black nigga in a big, white Phantom
Nigga, I look like a referee
They blowing the whistle, they telling
If I do the crime, I'm jailin'
This bitch turned up, making it rain
When I'm in the club, you yelling
They talk about these Bentleys that I'm getting on the daily
One feet in the game and one feet out, swear I barely made it
I'ma real nigga 'til the death of me
Never sing a song like a parakeet
Fifty bands in my pocket, just blew sixty grand on that Cherokee
I be gettin' money like a motherfucking Brinks trunk
Standing in the kitchen, nigga, trying to whip a brick up