Yo Gotti – Touchdown Lyrics
(Uh, oh)
Aye you know I’m cocaine crazy right?
(Looks like a blowout)
These niggas go white this, white that
Quit fucking with me (white everything)
Aye lil bitch I fuck with talk bout she want white cat
You know this my city nigga! (ho you crazy)
Pussy ass nigga
(Cocaine 4)
I got bass in the trunk, highs on the inside
Marshmallow paint, 49ers on the inside
Touchdown, a nigga going long
Field goal, extra point a nigga going strong
210 on the dash, blue jean inside
White wit blue top, like the Yankees when I come past
Home run, that boy out the park
Bases loaded, world series, that boy hustle smart
Streets talking, Gotti been doing good
Niggas wanna try em, couple niggas from the hood
You know how that go, niggas say you dont fuck with em
Truth be told when I was hustlin I ain’t fuck with em (Fuck em)
Same nigga still owe me on a pack
Think a nigga forgot because I’m rappin? (nah)
When I get off the road, I shoot back to my town
New whips, new watch, fuck with me, its going down
Own family hating, niggas looking mad
Guess it be little better if a nigga was doing bad
But momma got a smile
Brother still wild
I gotta get this money, I just had another child
They say I’m getting fat, guess I’m eating good
20 racks in the motor, got my name under the hood, (Yo Gotti),
Sometimes I think back, I could’ve went fed
This a chance in a lifetime, I gotta think ahead
I got bass in the trunk, highs on the inside
Marshmallow paint, 49ers on the inside
Touchdown, a nigga going long
Field goal, extra point a nigga going strong
210 on the dash, Blue jean inside
White wit blue top, like the Yankees when I come pastt
Home run, that boy out the park
Bases loaded, world series, that boy hustle smart
My city rooting for me, the club owners mad, cause I won’t come to kick it for under 25 bands
And you taking it personal I’m just tryna feed my man’s
See you ain’t a real nigga so that’s something you wouldn’t understand
But if it wern’t for my homeboys and if it wern’t for my fans
I would of been clicked on u bitches, doing a quarter off in the can
But I’mma keep on grinding and keep on shining cause thats what you can’t stand
And I’mma kill you bitches softly every time I ride pass
What the fuck make you wanna compete with me?
Like you street as me
Running round here talking down, bitch you ain’t use to be with me
Bitch you ain’t use to tote heat with me
Bitch you ain’t use to eat with me
Bitch I was thuggin in ridgecrest yo funky ass was somewhere down da street
Yo fuck ass ain’t no real G
Tell me where they do that at
Gang bang in yo neighborhood but round me wouldn’t even throw up your set
Motherfuckers do anything for a check, ok thats cool
But don’t fuck around and let Project Pat or Juicy J get your ass wet
On another note I’m the same nigga wit mo paper and more bigger
And when ever I’m in town bitch I’m right here on shady vista
My jewelry on, and my car parked, my shirt off with no pistol
Ain’t nan, nigga gone take nuttn
My lil niggas a shake sum
My lil niggas got mo paper, my lil niggas don’t even rap
Runnin round talk bout you got signed, bitch you still living in the trap
I got bass in the trunk, highs on the inside
Marshmallow paint, 49ers on the inside
Touchdown, a nigga going long
Field goal, extra point a nigga going strong
210 on the dash, Blue jean inside
White wit blue top, like the Yankees when I come pastt
Home run, that boy out the park
Bases loaded, world series, that boy hustle smart
