Gutta Money (feat. Gutta Boy Dirt)
Deecon
I say
Why you got to say nasty shit, Ray
Cause I'm a nasty motherfucker
Go to work
Watch your words, I'm the type of dealer, make you bite the curb
In the face of stack of G's, I make a hater nigga swerve
Most of y'all speaking nouns, well I'm only talking verbs
Tryna show me state, I don't comprehend, I'm a nerd
Y'all stood on corners, ended up by our press
I wasn't sat in class with them, so fly niggas could address us
Y'all sold shit where they sold shit, where's the lesson
My passouts got them shooting in they wrists, no compression
If y'all the ones, who the hell is Neo
They came to see who's bad, they ain't come to see T
So every key I knew, I broke it down to a trinity
I'm in love with that white girl from now to infinity
Oh, you a hustler? Nah, you offending me
Headshots when they drop, call him Abraham Kennedy
About as worthless as a hole in a penny
I'm dope on my city, on my soul
When it comes to the duel, I'm killing Kennys
I say
I say
I buy right now, most of y'all coppin' sorta properly
Reachin' past shit for the dough like a portal potty
Blinded by cash so I don't know nobody
Fam, I like my friends. Friends, I like my flam
Saw him flash shit hardly
A livin' face is not allowed
He told them they would all pay and then he shot into the crowd
He had a money gun
And he ain't fill it up with hunnids, he only shoot the ones
And he don't want a four mil, he tryin' to kill the crimes
He only blew it cause it's bad
The boy is dumb
And he forgot to put his mind
Before it's time
Ain't nothin' nice where I'm from
Cover up a line
Extend those on the clips
Go get the drums
Now they all kill for nothin
With all the moms
So all the daughters fuckin' good
Go get your sons
He is not a shirt or a pack
End up a song
Takin' anything you can get
What's really wrong
I say, I'm talkin' God to money
I'm talkin' God to money
I'm talkin' God to money
I'm talkin' God to money
I'm talkin' God to money
Yeah, yeah, he talkin' God to money
Gimme the loot, gimme the loot
Yeah, yeah, gimme the loot, gimme the loot
Ride, ride, gimme the loot, gimme the loot
Gimme the loot, yeah, yeah
Gimme the loot, gimme the loot
I say
I say
Why you got to say nasty shit, Ray
Cause I'm a nasty motherfucker
Go to work
Watch your words, I'm the type of dealer, make you bite the curb
In the face of stack of G's, I make a hater nigga swerve
Most of y'all speaking nouns, well I'm only talking verbs
Tryna show me state, I don't comprehend, I'm a nerd
Y'all stood on corners, ended up by our press
I wasn't sat in class with them, so fly niggas could address us
Y'all sold shit where they sold shit, where's the lesson
My passouts got them shooting in they wrists, no compression
If y'all the ones, who the hell is Neo
They came to see who's bad, they ain't come to see T
So every key I knew, I broke it down to a trinity
I'm in love with that white girl from now to infinity
Oh, you a hustler? Nah, you offending me
Headshots when they drop, call him Abraham Kennedy
About as worthless as a hole in a penny
I'm dope on my city, on my soul
When it comes to the duel, I'm killing Kennys
I say
I say
I buy right now, most of y'all coppin' sorta properly
Reachin' past shit for the dough like a portal potty
Blinded by cash so I don't know nobody
Fam, I like my friends. Friends, I like my flam
Saw him flash shit hardly
A livin' face is not allowed
He told them they would all pay and then he shot into the crowd
He had a money gun
And he ain't fill it up with hunnids, he only shoot the ones
And he don't want a four mil, he tryin' to kill the crimes
He only blew it cause it's bad
The boy is dumb
And he forgot to put his mind
Before it's time
Ain't nothin' nice where I'm from
Cover up a line
Extend those on the clips
Go get the drums
Now they all kill for nothin
With all the moms
So all the daughters fuckin' good
Go get your sons
He is not a shirt or a pack
End up a song
Takin' anything you can get
What's really wrong
I say, I'm talkin' God to money
I'm talkin' God to money
I'm talkin' God to money
I'm talkin' God to money
I'm talkin' God to money
Yeah, yeah, he talkin' God to money
Gimme the loot, gimme the loot
Yeah, yeah, gimme the loot, gimme the loot
Ride, ride, gimme the loot, gimme the loot
Gimme the loot, yeah, yeah
Gimme the loot, gimme the loot
I say
Credits
Writer(s): Dion Smith
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.