Ybn Walker - Gutta lyrics

I come from the gutta, I come from the mud Known to finesse a n***a out his d** Don’t talk to these n***as, I talk to the plug Pull up wit 50s, I send n***as slugs. She drenched in designer, my b*tch wit Uggs VVS diamonds, them diamonds, they flood (psh psh) He wet like a tub Skrrt off, Camaro, ain’t no catching up Known for the flexin, I’m known for the weapon Can’t f*ck wit these n***as, these n***as be peasants Skrrt off in Porches as in 9/11 I’m sippin on lean and that s**t be my beverage Don’t play wit the gang, that s**t can get hectic Drink the designer while servin pedestrians All of my n***as is strapped wit them westans Can tell mama I gotta go get it Then I told daddy to drop me out 50 Know you lil n***as don’t want see me wit it I come from the gutta, I swear I’m committed Run up them checks and run up them digits Pull up right on ya, get smoked like a fib My fingers keep clutching, my fingers keep itching Lil n***a keep talkin, I swear he gon get it I was on lock, n***as ain’t send me nothing When you come home n***as act like they love you You keep callin my phone, lil n***a I’m hustlin Don’t play with me, play with that b*tch like I’m f*ckin Quit callin my phone, lil n***a I’m hustlin (Hello, who dat?) Quit callin my phone, lil n***a I’m hustlin (Hello?) I gotta go get it Go get me a sack, don’t f*ck with these h**s These b*tches be next Smokin on gas like I got cateracts Balmains and my s**t got some racks. Stuck in the pot like I’m Kobe and Shaq Christain, Louis, moonwalk to the racks Pull up with shooters, they shoot throught your hat Walk in my trap, Givenchy on my mat YBN, where they go? Look at the stat 30 shots, hit him all in his back Guapo, guapo, that’s a big ol’ fact 40 Glock a n***a mouth like clap Givenchy sneakers for these shoes, pay the rack Captain of this s**t, I’m the quarterback Run with that sack and I run like a runningback Run with yo money and no, ain’t no gettin it back Pull up with shooters and n***as gon’ off dattt.