Kevin Gates - John Gotti (Tags) lyrics

Bet a lot p**y n***as want to murder Brasi Boulevard, Murcirélago and a Maserati b**bie Black, Gunna, and Menace still a catch a body And if you f** around with Rayzor, b**h I'm out my body Sideways, coupe be out my body Whole clique pull up in Vettes, b**h we out our body And you ever disrespect it then it's kamikaze I just be with me a shooter like I'm John Gotti I feel like John Gotti (Put your hands down, when you talkin' to me, b**h) John Gotti 'Cause it ain't sh** to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti It ain't sh** to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti My cousin CJ tried to hit me with a brick of raw In Alexandria, yeah it's nothing for to get it gone With music, I ain't won awards, but I kept it gangster Gon be a god in New Orleans like that n***a Daymond Landlord in the south like my n***a Lucci Corvette in front of David Ways screeching free Lee Lucas f** that n***a b**h, I got her saying free Lee Lucas (Free Lee Lucas) (Say free Lee Lucas) Beeto and Bryan b**h, I just got off the phone with 'em My old friends hatin, sending me the wrong signals My dog recorded conversations, man what's wrong with him? You got them college n***as fool, I be with stone k**ers Bet a lot p**y n***as want to murder Brasi Boulevard, Murcirélago and a Maserati b**bie Black, Gunna, and Menace still a catch a body And if you f** around with Rayzor, b**h I'm out my body Sideways, coupe be out my body Whole clique pull up in Vettes, b**h we out our body And you ever disrespect it then it's kamikaze I just be with me a shooter like I'm John Gotti I feel like John Gotti (Put your hands down, when you talkin' to me, b**h) John Gotti 'Cause it ain't sh** to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti It ain't sh** to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti Praise to Allah, I was born a god With the murder game I'm righteous Cancel shows just for Rayzor wedding, I don't know another just like it I love Bunker, but despite the love, I don't know what made him dislike it But me and Gunna in the Porsche truck and we screeching off like lightning Fast, doing the dash, your b**h on my a**, she want me to smash Flip out and flash, I'd rather get cash Drika she bad and she into bags Up in the Louis, Emilio Pucci I tell em it's Gucci when they want them bands I got them racks and no longer wear j**elry 'Cause I'm bout my business, and back selling sand I don't get tired I'm bout my business, and back selling sand I'm bout my business, and back selling sand I'm bout my business, and back selling sand I'm bout my business, and back selling sand Bet a lot p**y n***as want to murder Brasi Boulevard, Murcirélago and a Maserati b**bie Black, Gunna, and Menace still a catch a body And if you f** around with Rayzor, b**h I'm out my body Sideways, coupe be out my body Whole clique pull up in Vettes, b**h we out our body And you ever disrespect it then it's kamikaze I just be with me a shooter like I'm John Gotti I feel like John Gotti (Put your hands down, when you talkin' to me, b**h) John Gotti 'Cause it ain't sh** to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti It ain't sh** to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti