Yo Gotti - King Shit lyrics

rate me

Oh this a hit nigga

With no worries on it

I got on two chains

No I ain't tittie boy

I'm dream chasing but I ain’t fulfill it boy

And she say how you did it boy?

This a hit and Imma make you feel it by

My quarter planes, my swagger sayin

I can’t plan on 10

I like the beat she ready for

Not really into her friend

Got it off a cocaine

Hate to do a Lamborghini thunder while forbids

Bitch I'm in my lane fresher jeans no style

Giuseppe man’s my chain

I'm different all dividend

My bitch only ride dick for me

You’re right and I'm back, you’ve been missing me

My watch silly my clock ignorant

I'm the king of my city

I'm banned up and it ain’t in the bed

My flow just like an issue

Please take that yellow tape on the ass

Haters on the Zs, pussy why they do that?

King shit, hey you know what it is

Tryna smell on that pound that loud for a nigger

Like 100 real and

Drive Ferrari for some motherfucking killer

50 minutes imagine that on morning you’re repenting

I got rats all in my goggle pants

Standing clear with the hollow man

Your bitch as yo bitch bad

She can fuck fast ain’t no romance

My diamond dancing in 3D nigger

Fake the trip where you see me nigger

Your money wrong and my money long

And I'm playing with it like PE nigger

Real nigger no joke

No fake ass nigger no hope

I got mini round team and a 100 round joke

I'm gonna over up all of my coke

And nigger I don’t wanna smoke your weed

Plain ass only thing I smoke

Gonna thank up for the gifters on..

Shorty ain’t tell me everything I know

I do whip it , who could care to dip it

Had it to your partner let it flood it to the city

We bout that action, you try us and we blessing

We turn to the mat that’s a motherfucking fact

Come a real nigger for E round

Door up, doors down

When I'm in the club bitch ya going down

Shorty take it for, hand down

Heads up, pants down

Down, down, shorty fucking head down

I see my phone blowing up

I know it’s going down

What’s up pussy in the rapper it ain’t hit the town

Keeping numbers in the city boy it’s going down

That’s that dope boy automy

Keep that level been up to me

My friend my weed such tragedy

Shorty couple hands on happily

I ball hard like an athlete

I look like a referee nigger

They blowing the whistle they telling

I do the clam I'm chilling

This bitch turned up making rain

When I'm in the club you tell’em

They talk about these dealers that don’t get it in the game

Imma real nigger till the death of me

Never sing a song like a para key

Kick the bands in my pocket jam

I’ll be kicking money like a motherfucker lose control

Spend it in the kitchen nigger try a couple bricks on

Yeah! I am!

LA Reed cut that check for me

Turn it! Turn it!

Turn it! Turn it!

Tell the streets cut a check for me

Thanks to Joe for correcting these lyrics