Yo Gotti - R.I.C.O (Freestyle) lyrics

Intro: Ooooh n***as like talk yo sh** Gotti, these n***as don't know what's up n***a hating on you, you boutta tell em It's coooooool (Hahaha) This the money call right now Look, old money, new n***as I don't really feel 'em Copped that Lamb off the lot, I can't wait to k** 'em New crib like the mall, can't fill the closets Back n forth to the bank, too many deposits And that's cool, rockin 'em Robins and Giuseppes n***as ungrateful ain't no more happy Please quit axin me for them selfies (Urgh) I don't take pictures with n***as, (Can't do that) I take em picture with hoes He got a b**h and she cheat on him wit b**hes Them my relationship goals Old problems, new beef, sh** may never end If we ain't broke bread, got no money, we ain't friends Quit callin me bruh, I ain't yo brother, n***a we ain't kin (We ain't brothas) Blood thicker than water, n***a nah, sh** thin Whole label got me here honestly I got em young gangstas under me I got them n***as gon gun for me I'm trynna get me a hunnid piece On the cool I'm talkin like a hunnid mill Multi-millionaire but I'm a hunnid still Shotgun duplex with a hunnid thou I can show you how a hunnid feel I can show you how a hunnid click up If you f** up then you lose a twenny-five Half a quarter for twenny five Partna under twenty one and got a twenty-five (Ooooh) Lawyer paid, buns, made n***as got a friend (Got a friend) Got a bun, yo partna left in jail (That ain real) Same n***a give you chopper tell you go k** (Yaaw n***as) That what yo n***as call real then I guess I ain't real Industry fake and you know that sh** n***as be hating over hoes n sh** b**hes f** up cuz they slick n sh** You swear to God that yo know yo b**h (But do you really?) But I know the b**h better, keep that a secret (But that's coooool) I can tell you sum sh** about the b**h's secrets (Oh really) You buying the b**h baths (??) trying your best to keep her But all she wanted was some lingerie Victoria Secrets Why these n***as still k**in, 'bout thy penance, I don't really get it And I'm good wit to my n***as, millions, guess I'm still hustlin till the team win it Super bowl, Championship, why these n***as still jumpin sh** Bury me with a hundred thou, pack of rubberbands and a thirty clip Ay I'm boutta get hit with the RICO, you n***as go snitchin like Nino (You ain't New York City till the feds came home) Don't jump in the water, you ain't Nemo (Don't jump in the water with the sharks, boy) All the hustla n***as that's aloof