เนื้อเพลง R.I.C.O (Freestyle) - Yo Gotti
เนื้อเพลง R.I.C.O (Freestyle)
Intro:
Ooooh
N*ggas like talk yo sh*t Gotti, these n*ggas don't know what's up
N*gga hating on you, you boutta tell em
It's coooooool
(Hahaha) This the money call right now
Look, old money, new n*ggas I don't really feel 'em
Copped that Lamb off the lot, I can't wait to kill 'em
New crib like the mall, can't fill the closets
Back n forth to the bank, too many deposits
And that's cool, rockin 'em Robins and Giuseppes
N*ggas ungrateful ain't no more happy
Please quit axin me for them selfies (Urgh)
I don't take pictures with n*ggas, (Can't do that)
I take em picture with hoes
He got a b*tch and she cheat on him wit b*tches
Them my relationship goals
Old problems, new beef, sh*t may never end
If we ain't broke bread, got no money, we ain't friends
Quit callin me bruh, I ain't yo brother, n*gga we ain't kin
(We ain't brothas)
Blood thicker than water, n*gga nah, sh*t thin
Whole label got me here honestly
I got em young gangstas under me
I got them n*ggas gon gun for me
I'm trynna get me a hunnid piece
On the cool I'm talkin like a hunnid mill
Multi-millionaire but I'm a hunnid still
Shotgun duplex with a hunnid thou
I can show you how a hunnid feel
I can show you how a hunnid click up
If you f*ck up then you lose a twenny-five
Half a quarter for twenny five
Partna under twenty one and got a twenty-five (Ooooh)
Lawyer paid, buns, made n*ggas got a friend (Got a friend)
Got a bun, yo partna left in jail (That ain real)
Same n*gga give you chopper tell you go kill (Yaaw n*ggas)
That what yo n*ggas call real then I guess I ain't real
Industry fake and you know that sh*t
N*ggas be hating over hoes n sh*t
B*tches f*ck up cuz they slick n sh*t
You swear to God that yo know yo b*tch (But do you really?)
But I know the b*tch better, keep that a secret (But that's coooool)
I can tell you sum sh*t about the b*tch's secrets (Oh really)
You buying the b*tch baths (??) trying your best to keep her
But all she wanted was some lingerie Victoria Secrets
Why these n*ggas still killin, 'bout thy penance, I don't really get it
And I'm good wit to my n*ggas, millions, guess I'm still hustlin till the team win it
Super bowl, Championship, why these n*ggas still jumpin sh*t
Bury me with a hundred thou, pack of rubberbands and a thirty clip
Ay I'm boutta get hit with the RICO, you n*ggas go snitchin like Nino (You ain't New York City till the feds came home)
Don't jump in the water, you ain't Nemo
(Don't jump in the water with the sharks, boy)
All the hustla n*ggas that's aloof