A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Gudda Gudda lyrics : "Inside Looking Out"

I'm on the inside looking out
At a world that's full of doubt
Very underrated, I'm the down south champion

But they sleepin' on me like they took a bunch of ampion
So I'mma go hard, got bars like brikers
Young Money (*##$, it ain't a squad, nothing like us

You ain't gotta listen to us, you ain't gotta like us
But you gon respect the team or be ridin' like bikers
Numbers don't rhyme but you lame rappers do

Talkin' 'bout a bunch of %#@! you never did and won't do
Got the game in the chokehold, it won't let loose
If you look pass the lies you could see that I'm the truth

Young J to the gutter like the top of your roof
Summer time, I just let the top drop on the coupe
Getting money, ain't nothing wrong with that

But these hate $$# ^!$$%s lookin' like it's wrong, in fact
They just mad at the world cuz they broke and whack
In fact they probly just mad cuz they broke and wham

It's all good homie, yea, get your shot one day
And I'mma make a hundred grand by Sunday
^!$$% what? I ain't give a $#&@

I ain't a wishing well ^!$$%, don't try your luck
But I'mma wish you well and the best for your luck
But remember ^!$$%, I'm the big dog, you a pup

It's gutta time 2, the hood gave me that name
Still shaking dice, 20.000 at the crab game
Still got some homies in the street in the crack game

And I promised I would give them jobs in the web game
Real ^!$$% %#@!, that's real ^!$$% spittin'
Real ^!$$%s do real %#@!, that's how I'm livin'

^!$$% gifted with the whips, that's a mother$#&@in' giveth
!@%&, good riddens, I'mma punish all these ^!$$%s
I'm ill with the rittens, my pin gon make me millions

I don't write what I'm thinkin', I'm just writin' what I'm feelin'
I'm high like the ceiling, styrophoam cup fill it to the rim
I'm sippin' on the purp, well ^!$$% you can keep the gin

And losin's not an option ^!$$%, all I do is win
I'm a God fearin' man, hit my knees when I sin
Hot puck, dust my jeans off and go get it in

Wake up the next morning to do the same %#@! again
Yea, back to the money, this young ^!$$% hungry
Countin' paper til my hands hurt

^!$$%, Young Money (*##$
I'm on the inside looking out
At a world that's full of doubt




Submit Corrections