Yo Gotti - Red, White, Blue 1 lyrics

United States of America, n***a Land of the free n***a what you'd do for your country? You know what I'd do for mine? Everything but go to war, n***a Yeah, I'm into it with n***as right around the corner from me I ain't gotta go out the motherf**ing country to shoot them choppers n***a [Chorus] Colombians, Mexicans Even got some work from the Dominicans American, land of the free National anthem sh** My country tis of thee Red, white, and blue Red, white, and blue Crip and Blood sh** n***a I salute Red, white, and blue Red, white, and blue Cocaine sh** n***a I salute Colombians and Mexicans, I'm tryna re-up Stop the beat let's get something understood -- I stay g'd up Maybach with my feet up, AK when I creep up My young n***as rep Blood Gang, my OGs rep Hoover All I got is shooters, all we do is shoot up Little bad b**h got no aim, she must work at Hooters Remember being in New York when the towers blew up Now I got a 911 Porsche with the blue guts Rims'll make you throw up, something to make you blow up n***as getting little money, when you gon grow up? Louis from the toe up, street n***a, so what? Louis XIII and I just tell them b**hes poor up Work [Chorus] Voila, haha, 18 wheeler fulla Pounds of ? green and thirty bricks inside a Honda He don't speak any English, all he know is numbers That's my mans he plug me he gon get me through the summer He don't know my name, him there just a runner He pick it up and drop it off then he gets him yonder Land of the free, run up if you wanna Suicide mission, we got choppers in this Hummer Red, white, and blue, I'm no politician But I live in a white house so I feel presidential I pledge allegiance to the flag, United Streets of America In God we trust, in one we stand, I'll always be a hustler Work [Chorus] The block Frank Sinatra thirty thousand feet up in the air eating lobster Doing what I gotsta Catch me at the tables, hundred thousand a marker ? f**ing with the wrong set, ain't even perform yet Short one to AC, Vegas we took the long jet Blue chip in the field, red one on the horn bet Money straight, work good, the neck ain't did me wrong yet They come in powder form 'til we rock 'em up Land of the free, but they tryna lock me up Ha, I'm in the trap 'til the sky change Drug dealer nightmares, millionaire migraines Work [Chorus]