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YO GOTTI lyrics : "Buy Out"

A hundred miles and running, !@$@s going at the end of me
!@^%s switching sides, give me nothing like it's the end of me.
!@^%s having family, but I know these !@$@s into me.

Pown me, thug it to the mother$#&@er sin is me.
Imma train the topic time down, (*##$, I'm riding in a 'rarri.
If you don't like me, than I'm sorry.

I ain't og, I'm just being me, $#&@ing pretty clear.
I rap about this %#@!, 'cause I did it.
Life don't change, neither do the game,

!@^%s getting money, but the rules stay the same.
Who I'm gonna sound with, who I wanna ground with?
That's my only question, !@$@, see 'em G I'm down with.

Cocaine mirrors, cold money guns, every !@$@ I $#&@ with with the g I make them bun,
So I never leave the house without my chain on my gut,
Got on my old boy Gucci so I fresh pearl once.


See, !@$@, see, I feel like I wanna release, !@$@,
I got to face earth, you know what I mean?

And then I got nothing to do and get no money
And that, !@$@, that be a hundred.
That be a hundred with yourself, that be a hundred with the !@$@s,

A hundred with you, you know what I mean?
Man, I got a lot of young !@$@ around me, !@$@,
And that's straight of low life family, !@$@, could kill for each other,

That thing is real.

Murder was the case, !@$@, jump a hoardal with a race !@$@, down

Then I put it in your face, to the face, on my case, !@$@,
Told my lawyer go to trial, I'm doing it big in the meanwhile.
If I lose, place a riot for me, if I die don't stay fire for me,

Pour on some liquor and get higher for me,
I'm doing this thing for my home boys,
I have it, oh, lord, so surely can avoid.

I came here speaking from my heart for some time around
Am I a real rapper or just a !@$@ on lands?
I don't know, I'm confused, do I suppose to be rich?

You know that hoe ain't your hoe, she's your supposed to be (*##$.
No supposed to be clip, I want no allias,
You see 'em G, homie and we don't franchise.

I get green gas off the whipe $$#, don't get in that pot
And he get bout time.
Hallelujah, bless my shooters, serve my jazle, watch him hit that shooter.

$#&@ that rap %#@!, I don't fit in,
How they $#&@ boys, how they fake friends.
Streets on fire, plug on gold mode, streets so damn dry, I might get a truck load.

$#&@ your country, I won't sign it, labels keep calling me, but I don't call back.

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