Yo Gotti - CM10: Free Game Lyrics
Bad Behavior
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(Traxamillion)
Yeah
Wait a minute, wait a minute
Last time I checked, I had a half a hundred million
Know a Memphis nigga out in Beverly Hills
I been buyin' publishing and sellin' pills
Big dog status, watch with no stones
Niggas buyin' Dior, I been buyin' homes
Somebody tell my ex to leave me alone
No hard feelings got a better bitch, I'm moving on
I be spittin' dope shit in every song
If I get indicted off these lyrics, sayin' it's gon' be long, uh
You a rat, you know you dead wrong, uh
No collect calls, we do iPhones
All my niggas locked up they got iPhones
And I cleared the bank to bring my niggas home, yeah
Start over yeah, yeah, start over
Sellin'loud, yeah, yeah, strong odor
Twenty thousand square feet, I don't call it home
Walkin' 'round this bitch, I feel so alone
Text's to my son, ask him when he comin'
Give him a hundred K like, "Give it to your mommy"
Just because, yeah, yeah, just because
I remember the struggle, it ain't none but love
Bad memories, but can't forget the opps
I invest in pills, bricks, and weed 'fore I invest in stocks
Bad behavior, bad behavior
Get this money, take shit from nobody, how they raise you?
Mama made me savage, grandma took my filter early
Thirteen out the service, CMG all on my jersey
When they hang up my jersey, that's a 36
I could hang up my jersey, I sold a thousand bricks
They can frame up my jersey, I blew a hundred sticks
I can retro my jersey, I been doin' this shit
Couple niggas try, couple won't survive
Championship rings going to all the guys
You f*cked up then she f*cked up, why you act surprised?
You don't own the pussy, guess you can't accept the fact she lied
Bad behavior, bad behavior
Mama was a ho, I guess that's how her mama raised him
Daddy was a pussy nigga, so she f*ck with suckers
All she know was lame-ass niggas, look at her brother
Gotti, where you been, where you been?
I been off the scene countin' millions by the teens
I been on vacation, chillin', f*ckin' bitches friends
I been kinda silent, still slidin', gettin' revenge
Bad behavior, bad behavior
Get this money, take shit from nobody, how they raise you?
Mama made me savage, grandma took my filter early
Thirteen out the service, CMG all on my jersey
When they hang up my jersey, that's a 36
I could hang up my jersey, I sold a thousand bricks
They can frame up my jersey, I blew a hundred sticks
I'm the streets MVP, it don't get real as this
Writer: Mario Mims, Damien Aubrey, Sultan Banks
Copyright: Lyrics © Songtrust Ave
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Cold Gangsta
(June, you're a Jenius)
Do What We Want Entertainment
And Can't Be F*cked With Incorporated
Smack A Nigga Ass LLC
I'm on some cold gangsta shit
I might get blocked out the industry (I am)
Ain't wifin' no hoes, no couple goals (can't do it)
Still don't feel my enemies (I am)
Ain't squashin' no beef, I'm fryin' it (Hibachi)
If it 'bout the money, I'm tryin' it (I'm tryin', I am)
My price went high, it's thirty a brick (what 'evs)
Water been tight, flyin' in (whoosh)
Let's say, "Goodbye" to the ghetto (hello, hello)
And, "Welcome" to wealth, 90210 (real bag)
What's happenin', Gates?
Mulholland Estates
I might turn this bitch to the trap though (skeet)
Ayy, there go the neighborhood
Neighbors been bitchin' 'cause they heard the Lamb' in the driveway
At one in the mornin', disturbin' the peace (skrrt)
It sound like a plane when I drive away
Might put a Rolls on a lawn (lawn)
F*ck it ain't got no alarm (for what?)
New Richard Mille on my arm (factory)
I'ma king, you a pawn (nigga)
I'm a legend, 2Pac, Biggie, Big Pun, Wu, Raekwon (I am)
New Elvis to the city (king)
In Detroit more than Big Sean (facts)
I'm on some cold gangsta shit
I got a lil' bitch on the westside (westside)
Couple of hittas from South Memphis
And another lil' hitta from the eastside (eastside)
I can adapt to the pain (pain)
I understand the poverty (poor)
Why would I let a record label f*ck over us
When I did the robberies? (Never gon' happen)
They told me watch what I say in these raps (why?)
'Fore they f*ck around, sentence me
And you better watch what you say out your mouth (shh)
Whenever you mention me
You not relatable
I'm a street nigga and that not debatable
Tryna buy loyalty, that's not available
I got a hundred 'round dick on this AR
And I hold it stable
All my bitches bad, tens
Bitch cheat on me, so what? F*ck 'em
Ho gimme head in the Benz (yeah)
Bitch wanna f*ck in the truck (ooh) (Helluva made this beat baby)
Yeah, I'm gonna f*ck her friends, shit
'Long she down, I'm up, bitch
Don't ask my name, I'm doggy
Get the head twice, don't call me
Heard she had fire, I'm stalky
Beat her ass down in the office
Make her hit the high with beans
Lean, weed, drink
Bitch run off, get painted
Ex was a ho, we ain't
Turn blood, nigga, yeah, bitch, he can't
Gotta pay me to party, no shit, I'm famous
Nigga like smoke, not me, I'm rainin'
Put in the ear, make 'er keep goin', then put in her hair
Link one-twenty, lil' ho, these karats
Bros over hoes, ayy bitch, we sharin'
Three-eighty for the 'Rari, what they want for the 'Claren?
I just want the truck, I'm sayin', "Skrrt" (no cap)
Heard you wan' f*ck, take chances (come on)
If I hit her friend, I'm playin' (yeah)
Two hunnid in chains, I'm dancin'
Bitch, f*ck a nigga ho, she friendly (ho, rat)
Own five cars, none rented (none of 'em)
None of these bitches came tinted (none of 'em)
Ask around, "Who run the city?" Me
(Who you know run the city?)
I was just runnin' the streets
Me and my brother, we both had a onion a piece
Starin' on, clutchin' my yeek
Look two more seconds get deadly, wasn't f*ckin' with me (Forever Rolling)
Turned all my my brothers to beasts
Whether they want it or not, I'ma cut 'em a piece
I keep my gun when I'm sleep
Double the number, a hunnid ain't nothin'
Two hunnid, you done in a week
Who wanna run into me?
They really runnin' from beef
Scared to get somethin' to eat
Can't even order in peace
Once it was war was no peace
Remember it vividly, we hit up four in a week
Who brought more order than me?
Gave you a purpose and money
Stuck around, help you work it
I never said I was perfect but flawless
As soon as you changed up you fallin' like leaves
At the end of the August
I hit it twice and he bought it
Opened her mouth and she caught it
Walkin' this shit like I talk it
Smoke with me, niggas be coughin'
Face 'em then put 'em in coffins
First murder with a revolver
And I did it on my lonely
Big Gee, the one and only
Big Gee, the one and only
You know what I'm sayin'?
Don't got no skeletons in my closet
I'ma real street nigga, no flaw flaw
You know what I'm sayin'?
You niggas is cowards, nigga
And we stood on this shit
Still gon' get it
Play if you want too
You'll see the snake pit, get your face hit
Bitch nigga
Writer: Mario Mims, Martin Mccurtis
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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Collect Calls (ring ring)
Oh
Just got a call from the streets, they say we miss you bad
Just got a call from the streets, they say don't go out bad
Just got a call, say watch what you say, you know they on your ass
Just got another twenty mil', I'm 'bout to blow it fast
I been sellin' legal pounds, yeah, I can grow it fast
I'm talkin' exotic grass, you niggas smokin' trash
You niggas know that I'll crash 'fore I ever go out sad
Catch me ridin' with two hundred fifty shots for your ass
Don't ever mention me unless it's big, big, big
Only God knows the shit I did, did, did
And every dollar I make for my kids, kids, kids, yeah
Ring, ring, two-way call
Damn, I miss Cece, I really miss my dawg
Ring, ring, three-way call
Got niggas on max, I can't miss they call
Ring, ring, two-way call
Ring, ring, three-way call
Ring, ring, four-way call
When the streets on your line, you can't miss that call
Maybe you niggas forgot who I am and maybe you need a reminder
Lil Gotti from the Ridgecrest apartments, been thuggin' since a minor
Still gotta take niggas back on my journey
Niggas study me but didn't learn me
Niggas crossed me, tried to burn me
Bitch betrayed me but didn't hurt me
Lil' pussy ass nigga play games, that shit irk me
I saw a real nigga make a statement, that shit hurt me
I'm from the 901, I'm from the 901, you know what that mean
Ain't no f*ck shit in my blood, and ain't no f*ck nigga on my team
Every nigga in my city with it
Every nigga signed with me got millions
Love my niggas, I'd give 'em my kidney
One in the head, I keep it with me
I'll be on a Zoom or conference call, then a collect call
I be talkin' to the head of a label, then a jail call, nigga
Yeah, ring, ring, two-way call
Damn, I miss Cece, I really miss my dawg
Ring, ring, three-way call
Got niggas on max, I can't miss they call
Ring, ring, two-way call
Ring, ring, three-way call
Ring, ring, four-way call
When the streets on your line, you can't miss that call
Hello
This is a prepaid debit call from
To accept this call, press 0
To refuse this call, hang up or press 1
To prevent calls from this facility, press 9
Writer: Mario Mims, Salomon Naar Gonzalez, Jack Richmeier, Jaidyn Hullum, Devin Oscar Gomez
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
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Crypto
I guess this shit like a freestyle
Laid back though
To be the have or the have not (not)
I seen niggas sellin' dope through Cash App
I'm seeing gangster niggas talkin' cryptocurrency
I had faith in my dawg, but what that earned me?
Disloyalty, I hate it with a passion
That was my nigga, but he crossed me out in fashion
You can never repay me for the trust you destroyed
Only God knows the shit I tried to avoid
And the shit that I supported, I did it proudly, loudly
Hunnid rounds chopper, that's the wild me
Hoppin' out the Bonneville, quarter key, Glock 23
Now we having meetings 'bout metaverses and NFT's
Twenty million in taxes, who would ever believe?
The shit I done achieved, sometimes I don't believe
I use to get a thousand pound, now they legalize weed
But I got niggas in the feds, they still ain't free
I'd sell a brick and put blues in my pocket (pocket)
Now they talkin' digital money and wallets
A hard drive (hard drive), yeah, hard drive (hard drive)
I remember my first million was hard to hide
Got a message to the real niggas (what's that?)
You cannot defeat the Internet, no matter what, so chill, nigga
Don't get distracted by the money, you too relaxed
You livin' life but I remember you was hungry
Nigga gotta keep that hunger, nigga buyin' bitch a Birkin
Niggas ain't takin' care of they mama, I don't respect it (can't respect it)
I see some flog shit, I'll check it, you niggas pathetic (pathetic)
Niggas ain't takin' care of they kids but they flexin'
Spent a hunnid on a Cuban in the projects
Let the money make the money, nigga, that's the process
Niggas takin' pills man made, that shit processed
But scared to take a vaccination shot, this shit make no sense
Niggas want a bad bitch so bad, they accept the bitch past, even if the ho toxic (yeah)
I'm tryna do the opposite (opposite), take a good girl, bring her into my world
Put her on some mob shit, show her how to turn a sixty to a hunnid mil'
Show her how to turn a hood life to Beverly Hills
Vacation out to Portugal and buy a crib
Her brother and them some fake gangsters, that's how it really is (really is)
Yeah, that's how it really is
Her brother and them some fake gangsters, that's how it really is
No internet thuggin' over here (at all)
We don't do nothin' online (shh)
Everything cold
Quit mixing real life with the internet
You know what I mean, I don't know the f*ck what generation you was born in
Writer: Mario Mims, Salomon Naar Gonzalez, Jack Richmeier, Brian White, Gaetano Aliotta, Momchil Jelev
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
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Dolla Fo Dolla
Yeah nigga, it's whatever
Yeah bitch, it's whatever
Yeah, I am
I'll never let my niggas down
Nah, I'll never put them choppas down (never)
Hit your bitch when I come in town
She ain't never let a nigga down (yeah)
I just went up the sco', I got ten different hoes
They swear they go with a nigga (swear that they)
I'm a superstar, we duck off on the low
She know not to take no pictures (yeah)
Blogs put a nigga business out
Knock 'em down then switch 'em out (yeah)
I got opps I don't know about (I don't know about)
Stand on business, we don't talk about it (shh)
10 got ten bad bitches in the mansion
dancin', look like the soul train
I'm on the airplane
Pourin' up purple, it look like the Soul Plane
We do real numbers, real chef, Benihana's (yeah)
I'll take a nigga under
Watch three-hundred, these the new Yeezy's
'Fore they drop (yeah), call 'em Dondas
Jay said I got the thunder (woo)
Pray to God for the runners
Whole pandemic, all I seen was snow
it's like I missed a summer
Put it on my mama
Yo Gotti, he a hall of famer drug dealer (legend)
Yo Gotti he be runnin' 'round with real killers (steppin')
Hush gang, he ain't frontin' no f*ck niggas (shh)
Big stepper, we'll stomp one of you lil' niggas (be quiet)
Niggas say they slidin', nobody dyin' though
(Niggas say they slidin', nobody dyin') oh
Your net worth in the Forbes, but what was they lyin' 'fore?
(You in the Forbes but why is they lyin'?) yeah
Go dollar for dollar, shotta for shotta
We can go thottie for thottie
I'm scholarship Gotti, you gave a bitch a Birkin
I just gave her some knowledge
I'm on some rocker shit
She was basic, I made her a model bitch
Lenny Kravitz, I pull up, start rockin' shit
She athletic, she built like a soccer bitch
.45 but that 9 got a softer kick
Don't slip 'cause I drip when I'm walkin', bitch
I be rollin' that jay with some bosses, shit
Rondo, got 9 on my hip
Like Steph put thirty in the clip, I'm equip
Lay a nigga flat on the floor like a quilt
I just ran off on the plug like a bill
I'm at the top like I'm king of the hill
She freaky, she poppin' that pussy like pill
I'm tryna f*ck, I'm just keepin' it real
That pussy be bald and wet like a seal
Since Corona that young nigga ill
Get turned to a donor, you play with my bills
I'm knockin' all my opps out the field
I'm knockin' all my opps out the field
Young niggas sick, young nigga ill
All of my niggas united
Just bought into DC United
I gave him the pack and he tanked it (tanked it)
Twenty-five pints and he dranked it (uh)
Just showed her my account and she fainted (on God)
Showed him the plug and he thanked me (you welcome)
"Ayy, Gotti you low, you janky"
Lil' bitch just posted me, brainless (dumbass)
Rolls Royce stainless (steel)
Made my neighborhood famous (for real)
Rich cribs for tourists (for tourists)
Ayy, why yo' jewelry blurry?
All my jewelry flawless, all my niggas stallers
None of my niggas sanctified, they be throwin' crosses
All my Forgi's offset
All my diamonds factory set
That my lil' savage, I stamped that
My bitch like the sunset, yeah
Yeah, yeah
I see the same niggas doin' the same shit every day (same shit every day)
Different nigga, yeah, I had to go and make a way (yeah, I hadgo and make a way)
Any day, it's another million-dollar play
It's like seventy mil' now, 'nother hundred on the way
Writer: Brian White, David A. Marcus, Jack Richmeier, Mario Mims, Pierce Mackey, Salomon Naar Gonzalez
Copyright: Lyrics © TuneCore Inc., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, O/B/O DistroKid, Songtrust Ave, EMPIRE PUBLISHING
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Family Tree
Family
I got love for the family
Yeah, this the family tree
Aye, I tell my family meet
Yeah, we built a family tree
Family to me, my niggas family to me, look
Bad got a label, Youngsta got a label
I'm just proud to see these niggas gettin' some paper
The G got the shine and Dugg got the youngins
We fresh up out the court, right back to the money
I'm talkin' to 'em about building some houses
Lawyers tryna f*ck him out of hundreds of thousands
We tryna shape these streets 'cause they keep pullin' us down
But they think we acting funny when we don't come around
Thе idle time'll put a nigga in a sticky spot
I can't move around without a FN or a Glock
Thеse youngins got the city on fire, shit hot
And I just left the jeweler, dropped a million on a watch
I'm tryna teach my niggas how to never go broke
I'm tryna teach my niggas how to grow
Three outta five niggas on the label gettin' a hunnid for a show
The other two gettin' forty-five hunnid for a boat
And we just pulled up with like five Lambo's in a row
And two Rolls trucks, and three of them new Ghosts
Everybody got Patek's and Richards and AP's
Everybody bought somethin' 'round here, just not me
You ain't a leaf on this tree, you a branch nigga
Want more value within the money, stay up nigga
(You ain't a leaf on this tree, you a branch nigga)
(Want more value within the money, stay up nigga)
My niggas ain't my niggas, they family to me (Family to me)
Yeah, this my family tree
My hood ain't my hood, it's home to me (It's home to me)
That's who planted the seed (Planted the seed)
Help a brother to help a another, then make a tree
If he family to you, then he family to me (Then he family to me)
I ain't beefing with niggas, I'm into it with labels
Keepin' pressure on niggas, yeah, I'm turning the tables
All this street shit dumb, nigga, I'm really about paper
I'm really a boss, I don't know what you thought
I'm really about unity, I'm really about power
I ain't thinkin' 'bout mines, I'm thinkin' 'bout ours
When it rains, it pours, I'm giving out showers
I could give you a Rollie or I could give you your flowers
Oh, I can bring your head to tears
I ain't been this vulnerable in years
And I've been to myself lately, I ain't really feeling none of my peers
Yeah, I've been switching gears
Executive Gotti, I play the role well
A hunnid-fifty K a night when I play Cromwell
Residential, see residents in like five states
Vacation home, got it, nigga come from sellin' eights
In my city, in my hood, nigga, I'm a great
I'm the type a nigga come through, give your bitch a break
Put her heels up after I pay her bills up
Six months at a time, don't talk, we still f*ck
Damn, I'm off topic
Back to my family tree
I wanna salute every nigga who run with me
And it's a secret everything that you done with me
'Cause it's a couple niggas that practice loyalty, family
My niggas ain't my niggas, they family to me (Family to me)
Yeah, this my family tree
My hood ain't my hood, it's home to me (It's home to me)
That's who planted the seed (Planted the seed)
(You ain't a leaf on this tree, you a branch nigga)
(Want more value within the money, stay up nigga)
(You ain't a leaf on this tree, you a branch nigga)
(Want more value within the money, stay up nigga)
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
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For The Record
Hey Gotti
What's happening?
You ever heard that story
About when the real niggas came in last place?
Nah, nah, nah, I don't believe that
Shit, me neither
Ha
Shout out to Grip and Jook (Grip and Jook)
Cocaine Records (Cocaine Records)
I'll die for them three letters
Make these streets respect us (Go ask 'em)
I did deals that didn't benefit me
Why would I do such a thing? So my niggas could eat (One hundred)
My nigga on that dog food (Food), stole a hundred K (crushed me)
It was a million in that safe, why the f*ck you play? (Pussy)
If you gon' take it, take it all, nigga, nigga
'Cause when I see you, I want it all, nigga, nigga
Baby momma up and left (Why?)
She left me scarred (It hurt me)
But I can't blame her, all the shit I done (Why?)
I know it's hard (Yeah)
To love a nigga like me (Me), I'm too deep in these streets (I am)
Dedicated to hustlers whom dedicated to me (I am)
Six hundred for a Richard Mille, now we sellin' bricks
I'm rockin' niggas record deals (on my wrist)
Twenty mill' for an advance check (twenty what?)
I f*ck around, decline that (I don't give a f*ck)
First we want the money but now we gotta own the masters
How you live in a mansion but you don't own the land?
I'm on some other shit
Uh, I gave these niggas the game
I guess that they didn't listen, so f*ck 'em
I told 'em big homie rules, didn't pay attention
These niggas some suckers, uh
They flex on the 'Gram
They show they lil' racks but they live with their momma, uh
Gun emoji sign, with the smoke but they don't want no drama, uh
Let me clear up the air, no beef with no rappers at all
My focus has been on my niggas
On gettin' 'em some money and freein' my dawgs, uh
When it come to these broads, I'm different
I buy her Chanel, not Tiffany
I f*ck around, sendin' like ten thousand flowers to her job
'Cause I know that she miss me
And she know my history, I know her potential
The realest, you is, and fire that head
God Good must sent you, but back to the issues at hand
Don't wanna play on your dawg, don't sacrifice your lil' mans
You got to build up the team, gettin' a hundred racks was a dream
Gettin' a million didn't even seem like it was possible to achieve
Now I'm playin' with a forty, ridin' in a 'Rari
Strapped with a forty
That was 400K, yeah, a nigga ballin', I ain't just talkin'
F*ck the bitch good, now the hoe stalkin'
Can't get her off me
Had a good month, tricked on a bitch, but I don't do it often
Yeah (Yeah) Big Gotti, I'm cocky
'Cause I know everybody got their money right
Yeah, the team solid (Yeah)
CMG
All I ever did was show niggas how to get money
How to do it on their own
How to put their niggas on
Definition of a hustler
Treat my partners like brothers
Been understood business
Had a joint venture with the plug
Never joined a gang, still a thug
Never did nothin' to kids or women, that's off limits
In the streets I'm official
If I ain't with you, I'm against you
Writer: Mario Mims
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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Forever Ballin
[Shenseea]
Yeah
Forever
(FOREVEROLLING)
[Shenseea & Yo Gotti]
Don't matter shit that I'm goin' through a lot, I'ma be alright
I already know, for real
I told myself I ain't giving up till the day I die
Never, for real
Life hard, but me no want it easy on me
F*ck all who none believe in all me
I'ma keep giving my all, yeah (I am)
I'ma be forever ballin', yeah (Yeah)
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, whoa, whoa, whoa
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, whoa, whoa, whoa
[Yo Gotti]
Yeah, I'm forever ballin'
Joined the millionaire's club then I brought my dawgs in
Who welcome to rat? Who let the laws in? (Huh?)
Nobody bigger than each other, nigga, we all men (For real)
Nobody perfect and we all sin (We all sin)
No matter who gon' get that Grammy, nigga, we all win (We all win)
Can you picture a street nigga with riches?
I blow that chopper like I ain't they nigga
And we gon' profit in any position (Position)
I don't talk, nigga, I go and get it
CMG, nigga, this shit different
From the trap and the bandos to corporate office nigga (Nigga)
You niggas gossip too much, that's why I don't talk to niggas
Who put a size on the rich, that shit look awful nigga (Yuh)
My shit factory, every dollar come back to me
And all my bitches come back to me (Facts)
They say they gone forever, that's just an act to me (Yeah)
[Shenseea & Yo Gotti]
Don't matter shit that I'm goin' through a lot, I'ma be alright
I already know, for real
I told myself I ain't giving up till the day I die
Never, for real
Life hard, but me no want it easy on me
F*ck all who none believe in all me
I'ma keep giving my all, yeah (I am)
I'ma be forever ballin', yeah (Yeah)
[Shenseea & Yo Gotti]
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah, CMG, Don Dadda, nigga
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, whoa, whoa, whoa
[Yo Gotti]
We talkin' gangstas or we talkin' gangsta rap
All this plug talkin', niggas never been inside no trap
We talkin' thuggin' or we talkin' ball (Huh?)
We talkin' money or we talkin' cars
We talkin' street niggas beatin' the odds
We talkin' ownership x Interscope or at the plug
Sister went to school, momma house was built by movin' drugs
Patna doing a dime in this love, I'ma pay for his appeal
Errybody like to beef until a nigga get killed
I may bulletproof the Rove truck
Come through in the Lamb' with the doors up
Heard he had a Drac' and he froze up (Pussy)
We ain't choose this life, this life chose us
Standing in the kitchen over the stove, bruh (For real)
I remember having visions
I count millions with my niggas
Never knew that should've put the hood in they feelings
Damn, niggas talkin' sideways but they ain't with me
But they know I'm still standing on business, real talk
[Shenseea]
All my people in the ghetto (Ooh-ooh)
This a sign to keep your head up (Keep your head up)
Feeling down but we not falling (We not falling)
We gon' be forever ballin' (Forever ballin')
More while me fed up
But me gon' keep me head up
They wanna see me falling
But me gon' stay ballin', ballin', ballin'
No matter what you go through
No matter what you face
Once you have life, there's still a chance to make it right
Aye, Shenseea, yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Uh
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
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Free Game
Yeah, yah
It's only one of me, homie
(Reece, take 'em to church)
Ayy, I gave niggas the blueprint
I showed niggas how to get to the money
I never asked 'em for nothin'
Not even respect, I took that
Rumors (rumors), niggas spreadin' rumors (lies)
It's 2021, the new drug dealers consumers, uh
What a life, what a life (what a life)
Ten million dollar crib, nigga, I was sellin' white, cocaine
I did my thing, I never spoke on names (never ever)
Respect the game, I always knew my lane (stayed clever)
The plug came, made sure they got their change (all the cheddar)
The street different, the shit ain't the same (how you let this)
Public figures endorsin' these rats (rats)
I told my plug he should give me a plaque (plaque)
I'm tryna value my accomplishments (accomplishments)
Without the money, don't make common sense (common sense)
I watched my mama struggle with the rent (too many times)
Now my mama ain't gotta worry since (what a peace of mind)
Yeah, I'm a business man (man)
Told my homie, you want a loan, give me your business plan, ayy (what up?)
I'm with the Roc, baby (Dynasty)
FN on me, I been buying stock lately
Pandemic who? I love droughts (love droughts)
This the time to show you what a hustler 'bout (I am)
Summertime, muscle cars, I brought them custom's out (vroom, vroom)
I get questioned at customs, they always pick me out (damn)
I remember mama wanted to kick me out (why?)
I remember grandma told me gangsters move in silence so don't speak without (shh)
Thinkin', niggas sinkin' (sinkin'), I see 'em linkin' (linkin')
You going against me, what the f*ck you thinkin'?
What you been smokin' and what you drinkin'? (Drinkin')
I know you ain't focused, I see you blinkin' (blinkin')
My watch like three fifty and it ain't blingin' (not a stone)
Not one single stone, do you know the meaning?
Free game, buy that shit Plain Jane (Jane)
The jeweler tell you buss it down, won't say the same thing
Hold your value like you buying property (property)
I'm buyin' land like I'm playin' Monopoly (Monopoly)
I'ma G.O.A.T., I expect these niggas to copy me
I'm kinda flattered, that lil' shit don't bother me
Free game
Free game
Free game
This free game (this free game)
Pregame too, you know what I'm sayin'?
We only wanted to become a millionaire
Just left the bank, they say is fifty million there
You had a silver spoon, we had no silverware (silverware)
We come from the mud, we had to get it there (players)
I switch the whole flow up like a bitch glow up (uh)
Smoke grape Fanta, Birkin C still throw up
I'll make a bitch grow up fast
I'm on they ass, I'm in my bag
And I'll go out bad 'fore I go out sad
Writer: Mario Mims, Damien Aubrey, Reece Ivory
Copyright: Lyrics © EMPIRE PUBLISHING
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Giving Back
(I just want to make you my own)
Yeah
(I just want to make you my own)
I forever love my city
House on a riverside, ridin' down Poplar
Niggas ain't seeing us (at all), 'less they got binoculars
I just left Prive went to Love, I'm still poppin' out
"Gotti left the city," I'm like what the f*ck you talkin' 'bout?
Gotti in the city, lowkey, still poppin' out
Bulletproof and AR, and nigga, I'll walk you down
Got her drinkin' Ace of Spades, never drink you down
All my niggas talk me up and they'll never talk me down
Love for the Northside, yeah, I'm sittin' courtside
Damon with the sport ties, I don't need no allies
CMG the mafia and we do not franchise
We are not into saving you hoes, go get baptized
We don't do the back and forth, you niggas already know it
I probably done robbed your brother, I probably done shot your boys
I flew out your baby mama
I was in her DM, I don't got her number
Coldhearted nigga, but I sponsor the hot girl summer
(I just want to make you my own)
See, that's what I told her, even though I was lying to her
(I just want to make you my own)
You know these hoes believe anything
I know I'm a rich nigga, bitches wanna charge me
I'ma play the game whether this shit make my heart beat
They like, "You a gentleman, didn't know you was so sweet"
I just might send the bitch flowers for like six weeks
You know how we play (how?), put her on a PJ
She never flew private
She doing shit with me in public she wouldn't even do private
I got her wide open, she don't even know how to hide it
Let's go have a foursome, she said she ain't never tried it
I'ma post her booty, she be doing lashes
Head like she got no teeth, she should teach classes
Like me 'cause I'm so street, nah, I ain't cashin' out
She know I ain't no sucker and I'ma f*ck her 'til she passin' out
She got a real one, she be braggin' 'bout
You bought her a bag, she don't respect you, I call that crashin' out
Took a lil' bitch out the city, called it givin' back
A Memphis bitch in Calabasas, she don't know how to act
(I just want to make you my own)
See, that's what I told her, even though I was lying to her
(I just want to make you my own)
You know these hoes believe anything
Writer: Mario Mims, Salomon Nicholas Naar, Julian Bohorquez, Brian White
Copyright: Lyrics © Peermusic Publishing
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If I Ever Thought
For real, for real
Can you imagine bein' me?
Just know you can't, for real
No drugs, whole lot of money, whole lot of speculations
You couldn't even imagine (damn)
Can I think out loud? (Can I?)
Can I tell myself I'm proud?
You ever looked in the mirror and said you foul
'Cause you livin' wild? (Well damn)
Can I speak out loud? (Can I?)
Is anybody listenin'? It may take a while
May have a lot to say, you heard me?
But this ain't therapy
This the ex-drug dealer hall of fame jersey
This that kept it gangster in every song (song)
I might be livin' wrong (wrong)
This that in the kitchen cookin' bricks up in the zone (woo)
This that spin the block and spin again until they gone
This that once you got up, you went put your niggas on
This that you can't trust no bitch, so you can't find love (at all)
This that f*ck security, we take pistols in the club
This that he so quiet, they don't know what he be thinkin'
Millions on my mind, if we ain't gettin' money, why we linkin'?
I don't get high to just be high, if we ain't celebratin', why we drinkin'?
Big Gotti, I do big shit, I don't know what you niggas thinkin'
Yeah, yeah
Sometimes I cry when I'm alone
Most times I don't answer my phone
I be talkin' to God like, "Am I wrong?"
I do whatever I gotta do to make it home (but snitch)
Don't never think Gotti alone
I don't move like that
Yeah, I'm Mr. No Pressure, yeah, I'm smooth like that
Don't be speakin' 'bout- we ain't cool like that
So many times I done been doubted
You niggas should know that I'm 'bout it
Gangster, but I ain't that proud about it
Yeah, my visions on billions
My visions on buildin' buildings
Makin' street niggas millions
I don't gossip or do rumors, I don't exercise feelings
You internet gangster-ass niggas, I ain't feelin'
I'm flawless, I ain't never fold
All this pressure and I ain't never told, nigga
Big Gotti, big Memphis, you know what I'm sayin'?
Big CMG
Big, um
Big everything, nigga, to you little-ass niggas
Writer: Brian White, Jack Richmeier, Mario Mims, Salomon Naar Gonzalez
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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Just Left The Hamptons
Aah, I don't wanna fight
Baby I'm just fine
I don't need you anymore
Man, nigga got 'em
I'ma tell all my lil' niggas, they got to level up
You know what I'm sayin'?
(TouchofTrent be wildin' with it)
Billion dollar mind frame (Yeah), hunnid thousand chump change
Gunpowder on my sleeve (Sleeve) and I ain't been to a gun range
All these diamonds real as me, they certified (Certified)
Ain't ducking no problems, just identify (Identify)
All these bitches f*ck with you, yeah, business-wise (Business-wise)
They say you pay good just to get inside
Nigga, you a trick where I'm from
To a bitch, you a lick where I'm from
You can't even visit where I'm from
Picture having five hunnid thousand on your arm
One-fifty on your chain, another seventy in your charm
Picture having switches on your gun
Once you pull that trigger, it's a drum and can't nobody run
Get away from it
Play with me, you got a date on it (For real)
I tell a bitch to wait on it, bitch, I ain't your player homies
On another note, I just left The Hamptons
Landed in my city private, me and my accountants
Michael Rubin just inspired me (For real)
All white party, what's the earning
That I thought getting a hunnid bricks was ill (Well, it is)
Nigga a hunnid mill' in the crib (Ugh), damn
This like '96 off (96)
I used to have the money in the loft (In '06)
Housing bitches with the work, that was law
Worry when in one jump and I sold the sauce (Sold it raw)
And when you won, you don't gotta say you a boss, nigga
It's in your moves, never play to lose
I graduated streets and school
Clean look, college cut, half a ticket, I was moving smooth, nigga
Seen in you in my school, nigga
Ask my teachers 'bout me, this ain't nothing new, nigga (Nothing new, nigga)
Most likely to succeed (I am)
First semester college, got a thousand pounds of weed
Yeah, I have more gas than Texaco
College dropout, I went to study business out in Mexico
You know, yeah, yeah, you know
But on another note, I landed in The Hamptons with a Draco
My mind f*cked up, I gotta let these streets go
Emotions don't feel safe, I don't think so
I'd rather be prepared than not be ready
I come from a world where shit get deadly
Before I be a corpse, I'd be a celly (Yeah)
And I'd rather rot before I tell it (Tell it)
This no regular AP, this a skele' (Skele')
Yeah, nigga, this the Holy Grail
Like Amazon Prime, I'll send it through the mail
Zip so tight, you'd think you had no sense of smell
Street niggas sending rap money to the jails
If I win a award, tell BET I want a scale
I wanna represent the streets, I wanna represent them bells
I went platinum in that kitchen, bringing it down, watchin' it gel
I'm with the Krafts in The Hamptons, what the hell (The hell)
Shit crazy
Anything possible nigga, you know what I'm sayin'
Real dope boy, nigga
And I just left The Hamptons
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
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Last Run
(L-l-l-link Up)
Yeah (Yeah)
Yeah, I'm on my last run (I'm on my last run)
This ain't my last set or my last gun (Last gun)
But this my last run (Last run)
I'm on my last run (Last run)
(I heard so many niggas say this shit like déjà vu, when I heard this shit, you know what I mean?)
I'm on my last run (Last run)
(It's quick)
You know how I go (How?)
Every time you think about it (About it), you f*cked up all the money (What that?)
It ain't no one to blame but yourself (Damn, I can't f*ck this up)
So you mad at yourself (F*ck, shit)
But you can't get back at yourself (Back)
I told B to quit (Quit), I sense the Feds comin' (The Feds)
Of course he didn't listen, you can't tell a grown man nothin'
He kept doin' him, so he kept hustlin'
Thirty days later, the Feds bust him, damn
He was on his last run
Tryna get off his last ball
Breaking news, indictment, fifty-five bricks
They say a rapper connected, I'm like, "Aw, shit"
Once upon a time, name is anonymous
That's my nigga, he know it, we been through a lotta shit
He had a play on the line, it was Christmas Eve
I told him, "F*ck that lil' money", but he ain't listen to me (Listen to me)
Now it's R.I.P, he ain't make it Christmas but have five P's
At 7:50, there was thirty-seven fifty, I just wish he would've listen to me
I get emotional, angry when I think about it
Far as I can remember, them streets don't love anybody
If you gon' quit, just quit, don't even think about it
'Cause when you say this is your last run, I doubt it (I doubt it)
It's your last run
(See, I never wanna be a broke rapper)
I know niggas broke
They ran it up and f*cked it up, so now they stuck
Bent on they luck, tryna get that last run (Last run)
They need that one hit to do that last tour
Just need that big song
Bought too much jewelry, took too many drugs
Flew too many jets, you invested wrong, damn (Damn)
My investments long
It's cocaine ten, this the last run (The last run)
She was a student and a dancer
Birthday in July, she was a Cancer
Street smart, always got the answers
Single parent living in Atlanta
Baby father calling from the Fed, she don't answer
Now she on her last run, tryna run her bands up
Got a OnlyFans page, tryna get her fans up
Tonight gon' be the night she gonna work to make a killin' (Killin')
She did her favorite trick but Mr. Pole f*cked around and fell from the ceiling (Fell from the ceiling)
Damn
She ain't make it to that last run (Last run)
You hardly ever make it to the last run (Last run)
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
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No Matter What
It's all there
I've been stackin' this shit all along for you
No matter what happen, you gon' be rich forever
No matter what we go through, you gon' be my bitch forever
No matter what happen, I'ma rep the clique forever
Them three letters (CMG)
Them three letters
No matter what happen, you gon' be rich forever
No matter what we go through, you gon' be my bitch forever
No matter what happen, I'ma rep the clique forever
Them three letters (CMG)
Them three letters
Kayla worth like 20 mil'
Maria worth a dubb
So you don't need no OnlyFans, and you don't have to work in clubs (ever)
Your brother worth another twenty and he a hustler (yeah)
So y'all off to a good start, just got to run it up
I ain't do this shit by myself (nah)
Shout to my niggas who helped (yeah)
Create generational wealth
And when we steppin', we step
They think we gangstas, just got cars and guns (cars and guns)
Entrepreneur, we got stocks and bonds (stocks and bonds)
No matter what happen, you gon' be rich forever
No matter what we go through, you gon' be my bitch forever (my bitch forever)
No matter what happen, I'ma rep the clique forever (I am)
Them three letters (CMG)
Them three letters
When you locked in with the plug, you can get them bricks forever
No matter what we go through, you gon' be my bitch forever (forever, ever)
No matter what happen, I'ma rep the clique forever (forever)
Them three letters
Them three letters
I forgive you niggas, you didn't know no better
Good hearted Gotti (Gotti), he down to help whoever (I am)
Never cross my guys (ever), it never cross my mind (not one time)
Never got in nigga's business, just stayed in mine (stayed in mine)
Turned street niggas to millionaires, I done that four, five times
No tough shit but I'll deal with shit if they cross that line
Whole world shut down, still paid my whole staff
Five million in overhead for two years, better do that math
Eight figures in the pandemic, dished it out without even blinkin'
Depend on my people, my people depend on me
I do it without thinkin' (yeah)
Bruh gon' hold this shit down if no one do (I know you will)
If I lost it and had nobody, I know I got you (I know I got you)
No matter what happen, you gon' be rich forever (forever)
No matter what we go through, you gon' be my bitch forever (my lil' bitch forever)
No matter what happen, Ima rep the clique forever (I am)
Them three letters (CMG)
Them three letters
No matter what happen, you gon' be rich forever (rich forever)
No matter what we go through, you gon' be my bitch forever (forever, ever)
No matter what happen, I'ma rep the clique forever (forever)
Them three letters (CMG)
Them three letters
Writer: Mario Mims, Salomon Naar Gonzalez, Brian White
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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Palm Trees in Memphis
Ay you ever seen palm trees in Memphis nigga? (I doubt it)
Probably not huh
Come visit my crib (Gotti Estates)
Look
Poverty, yeah we come from poverty
Palm trees in my backyard
Now we sleeping luxury
Chandelier like 250
Grip here long as you wit' me
Don't nothing else really mean shit (Why not)
Cuz you was here when I ain't have shit (My nigga)
Ectasy's on the Rolls Royce's
Stable in my garage, that's a lot of horses
Cars that look like Foot Locker
That's a lot of Forces
And Dior's
Look like I just got a shoe endorsement
I be talkin' to myself
It's like I'm hearing voices
Stay street or go corporate
Them really the choices
I'm sorry I'm gangsta
Never pay for enforcements
When it's time to slide
I'm the one to endorse it
I know that I'm bigger
Mo' money, mo' problems
In my city who richer
Point 'em out & we'll rob 'em
Street addiction, addict
I'm far from average
But my mind still savage
Which shaped my habits
Blue skies
Black tint
Cavale floors
Electric fence
No suicide thoughts less it was on the doors
Feel like it's niggas wit' money vs professional whores
Palm trees, no Palm Angels
Mama praying for me, keep me out of danger
Mama pray for me, help me wit' this anger
What happened to my niggas
I see nothing but strangers
Gotti how it feel
Not only did you make it out
You took some niggas wit' you
That say a lot about you
Why would niggas doubt you (I don't know)
Where would Memphis be without you
How many times I prove you wrong
I didn't put on for my city
Nigga I put my city on
The streets planted these seeds
Nowadays it's like we print money
Or money grow on trees
My house feel like a hotel
Sometimes I can't believe it
Let's suffocate these pussies
Now let these niggas breath
Cuz what if this a dream
I wake back up
I'm right back in the hood (F*ck u mean)
And all I see is bushes in the yard, no palm trees
Street nigga life not fair
But that won't be a light scare
That'll be a nightmare
Blue skies
Black tint
Cavale floors
Electric fence
No suicide thoughts less it was on the doors
Feel like it's niggas wit' money vs professional whores
Palm trees, no Palm Angels
Palm trees, and a lot of angels
Writer: Ed Townsend, Mario Mims, Nicholas Warwar, Tarik Azzouz
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
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Rap Check
Nigga, I'm legendary, niggas better do they motherf*cking research on me
(Tay Keith, f*ck these niggas up)
For real
Shoutout to Birdman, he gave me my first rap check (Salute)
Slim gave me the game, gotta respect that (Respect)
I was right there with Wayne, back Carter 1
He had a Cash Money chain, shit, I wanted one
Cash Money always gon' be my family, nigga, know what I'm saying?
For real
I was still trapping back and forth to New Orleans (Yup)
I was half rapping, full-time selling kis (Trapping)
I was pistol packing, every day, it's on me (Scrap)
I was with the shit, you pull up, know I'm gon' squeeze (Blatt)
They was tryna indict me, so I moved to the A
I met Jeezy in '03, we was talking yay (Yup)
I wasn't in the hood, but still responsible for the chickens (How?)
I was sending loads to Memphis from Mexico City
Through FedEx, nigga, you hear me?
Yeah, we been getting loads in
Ain't shit changed, nigga
Real dope boy
Rest in peace to Nate (Dogg), took me to the stu' with Dre (Doctor Dre)
He ain't know I'm wanted for attempted murder case (Damn)
On the run, I ain't turning myself in (F*ck that)
Lawyer tryna make me cop a plea for the fifteen (F*ck that)
God willing, beat the case, I wouldn't have never been a rapper
Probably doing a hundred years in the slammer
Look at God, I'm in the Phantom
I put Nicki on "5 Star", she came hella hard (Remember)
First video she was on on 106 & Park (Facts)
You was excited 'bout being new joint of the day
Time flies, you a superstar now, congratulations
He said he'd give us a number one video, what is it?
Yo Gotti, "5 Star"
I start to go way back
In Ridge Crest with my seat back
With Yo Gotti and E-Mack
You recall Drake saying that?
And these niggas got diamonds glowing in they mouth
And they rocking furs like it's snowing in the south
Little did he know that we had birds in the drought
And I can make a million dollars selling crack rock out that house
Long story short, shoutout to Drake, he saw this shit his self
I was selling kis, no rap money, financing myself
I salute you, dog, everything you accomplished for yourself
This shit ain't easy, dog
Might be one of the best to ever do it, so you gotta ball
901, Range Line, look alive, look alive
Niggas know they play with me, I gun 'em down on this live
Disrespect me and get hit up, why the f*ck you look surprised?
Out the way, tryna survive
Playing with me ain't really wise
I'm in the back of the 'Bach and I'm riding with fire (Yeah)
And the bitch on the side of me (Side of me) and the head was fire (Fire)
And they say they gon' ride with me, but I know it's a lie (I know it's lie)
And nobody gon' die with me, and nobody slide
2021, I'm still here (Here)
Yeah, this my GOAT year
Bought my masters back from Epic Records, that's a souvenir
I may break a bale down on a platinum plaque (Plaque)
This shit ain't no thrax
I may ship it back
I went platinum, I went gold (Gold)
The album and the stove
I just had a meeting with Lucien, talking gangster shit with Hov (Hello?)
Writer: BRYTAVIOUS LAKEITH CHAMBERS, MARIO MIMS
Copyright: Lyrics © Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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Recession Proof
Ayy, ayy, we were havin' a conversation 'bout
I should start financial classes
How easy it is to make money
But it's even easier to f*ck it off, you know'm sayin'? (Tay Keith, f*ck these niggas up)
'Lotta niggas f*cked up right now
One mill', two mill'
Three mill', four cribs
Ten cars, epidemic hit
That Corona shit left no jobs (damn)
Rap niggas didn't save well
All them Richard Milles
Now they for sale
All that cap shit
Didn't do well
I know I'm good
I'm like, "Oh, well" (oh, well)
I'm a real hustler, I'm recession-proof ('cession-proof)
I know how to make the paper, then stack it too (stack it up)
I'm a real hustler, I know what to do (know what to do)
I'ma flip the paper, I'm recession-proof (I'm recession-proof)
I'm a real hustler, I'm like thirty up (I'm like thirty M's up, nigga)
I'm a street nigga, 'fore we poppin' out, we back re-in' up (back re-in' up, woo)
I'm a real hustler, I take risks, nigga (take risks nigga)
I'm a street nigga, I ain't goin' broke for no bitch, nigga
Conference call with the team
Bagg here, Youngster here, where Dugg at? (y'all ready?)
No more shows this year (you hear me?)
So we goin', "Where the plug at?" (Okay)
Hit me or hit Block (hit him online)
You got paper? Throw it in the pot
Got good prices on the trees (for real)
And extra numbers on the block (even better)
I spent a house for a watch
And I can do that shit again (and again and again)
He get money and you broke?
That nigga probably ain't your friend
Bein' greedy, that's a sin (not over here)
Bosses gotta feed their men (always)
Real leaders got to lead the way
All the way to the end (nigga)
Negotiations with the label
No cap, fifty mill' on the table (real, for real)
They know money can't persuade 'em (not me)
The deal's just not in our favor (so f*ck 'em)
We'll grind it up the long way
'Fore we do that shit the wrong way
On my hustle like the song say
I'ma stack it up the strong way
One mill', two mill'
Three mill', four cribs
Ten cars, epidemic hit
That corona shit left no jobs
Rap niggas didn't save well
All them Richard Milles
Now they for sale
All that cap shit
Didn't do well
I know I'm good
I'm like, "Oh, well"
I'm a real hustler, I'm recession-proof ('cession-proof)
I know how to make the paper, then stack it too (stack it up)
I'm a real hustler, I know what to do (know what to do)
I'ma flip the paper, I'm recession-proof (I'm recession-proof)
I'm a real hustler, I'm like thirty up (I'm like thirty M's up, nigga)
I'm a street nigga, 'fore we poppin' out, we back re-in' up (back re-in' up)
I'm a real hustler, I take risks, nigga (take risks nigga)
I'm a street nigga, I ain't goin' broke for no bitch, nigga
Nigga, I can count better than a CPA
Made a business outta sellin' that yay
Seen niggas spend they money 'fore the niggas got paid
I'm thinkin' like, "These niggas cray"
Like me tryna keep up with Jay and Em
Financially niggas better know they lanes
Another month, I'ma multi-millionaire
That shit just ain't the same
Never get offended, I'm motivated
Havin' money talks with Puff, I appreciate it
School of hard knocks, I graduated
School of hard rocks, I participated
Back to the street shit
Hatin' on the next nigga, you ain't gon' be shit
What you eat don't make me shit
So how you spend yours, don't give two shits
One mill', two mill'
Three mill', four cribs
Ten cars, epidemic hit
That corona shit left no jobs (damn)
Rap niggas didn't save well
All them Richard Milles
Now they for sale
All that cap shit
Didn't do well
I know I'm good
I'm like, "Oh, well" (oh, well)
I'm a real hustler, I'm recession-proof ('cession-proof)
I know how to make the paper, then stack it too (stack it up)
I'm a real hustler, I know what to do (know what to do)
I'ma flip the paper, I'm recession-proof (I'm recession-proof)
Writer: Al Greenwood, Brytavious Lakeith Chambers, Mario Mims, Mick Jones
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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Shoot Off Pt. 4
(Tay Keith, f*ck these niggas up)
Yeah
(DJ Meech, lil' bitch)
Ayy, Leo, don't stop me, this off top, part four
Alright, alright, we got it like ninety bars
Ayy, used to be the fed, now the paparazzi snappin'
Ayy, everybody smoking on somebody, boy, quit cappin'
Ayy, somebody tell Tay Keith he a fool, this bitch slappin'
Ask my last bitch, what happened?
Shoutout my last bitch, what's happenin'?
Real nigga, never bitter, what's pillow talk, I never seen a pillow
Bitch told me Richard Mille or bye-bye, I'ma miss her
FN hold baby missiles, it go through your bone gristle
High security, still tote the pistol
I don't rely on nan' nigga
Let's have some fun with this shit (I am)
I'ma slow down the flow (okay)
You know this CM10, this "Shoot Off" number four ("Shoot Off" number four)
You see that Phantom and that Cullinan and that Wraith and the Ghost
I f*ck your bitch on a plane, double back for the throat
I'm investing in crypto
I be textin' in street code
Got more watches than jewelers (than jewelers)
Want my bitches in plurals
That's more than one a time
If she ain't with it, it's fine
She know I'm busy as f*ck, that's my favorite line (shoot off)
When the beat breakdown, make me feel like I'm breakin' down them pounds
And my sister Tash' house, in the kitchen with that newspaper on the ground (keep going)
When them bricks came in, me and Nero had Ziplocs in them Ziplocs
Standin' over that stove, making that pot go do the beatbox (go, go)
Joe Biden with the big rocks, fifty pointers in the Rollie
Trackhawk and a Redeye, none of my shit stolen
Shirt off in that SL, might go luxury, uh-huh
Know I keep it on me so don't f*ck with me, uh-huh
Ayy, I used to ride a Ford now I'm in the Forbes
I used to step on woodgrain now it's marble floors
I miss the Honda Accord, used to have a bitch in it with the bricks in it
Rental trucks tinted with the sticks in it, yeah, I been spinnin' (twenty-four left)
Yeah, I been winnin', big Gotti been gettin' it
No feelings, drug dealin', turned that shit to a business
Solo on all my mission, want no witness or codefendants
Never put no hoes in the business
No cap, no kiddin', I take this shit to the graveyard
I got a million in that Goyard
I made a half a million, ask my grandma, yeah, I trap, boomin'
I'm eatin' noodles serving consumers
Locked in with the streets, never move off rumors
Facts only
This that Cocaine Muzik, yeah, I'm right back on it (almost there)
Gave my nigga a hundred K, turned his back on me
Ain't no love in these streets, ain't no loyalty
How opps beefing with me but they avoiding me
(Alright, just make sure I get my credit)
Writer: Mario Mims, Leo Goff, Brytavious Chambers
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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Stay Ur Distance
Ayy
Ayy, I been quarantined 'cause I ain't f*ckin' with niggas anyway
Stay your distance, pussy
Yeah, stay your distance, pussy (Tay Keith, f*ck these niggas up)
First week of that virus, I lost a half a mil' (five hundred)
Let's see who gon' survive and who got hustlin' skills (hustlin' skills)
Niggas still outside, they must don't think it's real (niggas still outside)
Kinda miss Southside, I wanna be in that field (wanna be in that field)
My mask Dior, your bitch just hit my phone, I just might smash her more (bye-bye)
Gave her the dick, the best night in her life, what else you askin' for?
Touch my chain, I crash of course (uh-huh)
That's one mission you had to abort
Thug life, nigga, I'm passionate for it (passionate)
Back outside, can't find the doors
Five, six Lam' trucks, five, six Cullinans (phew)
Nigga, we back outside, back outside, back outside
Nigga, we back outside
Chrome Hearts, Amiris, a million in jewelry (beep)
Nigga, I'm back outside, back outside, back outside (yeah)
Nigga, we back outside
Bitch gettin' flewed out ASAP (ASAP), if I like, then tap, tap
Shit been lit, it's 'bout that time, let them know you back outside
Back outside (back), back outside, bitch, we back outside
Back outside (back), back outside, bitch, we back outside
I don't want no handgun, I need an AK (a whole Drac')
Busted-down Patek (Patek), she bust it down, respect (respect)
She don't respect no sucker, street shit from her brother (yeah)
And if you cuff her, you gon' have to buy her that Chanel bag before you f*ck her
That's on Coco
Everything Gucci, no logo
Everything platinum, no promo (promo)
Gotti won't go, my bro know, yeah, yeah (at all, at all, at all)
Pack in
No rap money, no backends
Thought he was your opp, now you're back friends (what?)
That's how a lame get done in, dummy (bah)
I want the money on the front end (front)
It's murder on all of my run-ins (on sight)
Twenty-thousand square feet, eight-figure cribs all I can live in (facts)
I'm the type follow a nigga bitch, fly her out
I'm the type pipe her up, show her life about (yeah)
She the type wife-like, but not really (really)
She match my energy (twin)
She like when I stick the thumb in her butt, go'n, let her cum on the millions (uh)
Flag on the play, bitches been wildin' out, ain't no more Wildin' Out
I got a drum like I'm Nick Cannon
I'm a street nigga, I want a Grammy (yeah)
I'ma be good, word to my granny (yeah, yeah)
Shawty ass fat just like her mammy
My bitch a job, shout to JT
Touched down in Miami, I'm on a ski
Two-tone Cuban, they eighty a piece (woo)
Bricks, spent forty a piece (woo)
Dugg want forty a verse (woo)
Big Birkin, a hunnid the purse (woo)
And we coppin' shit in the recession, nigga
Fire hoes too, you know what I'm sayin'?
Label tried to give me a new deal for the twenty mil' (what you do?)
Turn 'em down (hah)
Back and forth with the plug, talkin' about numbers
Pack on the 'Hound
Frrt, frrt, frrt, frrt
Frrt, frrt, beep, beep, beep
Frrt, frrt, frrt, frrt
Frrt, frrt, beep, beep, beep
Writer: Mario Mims, Brytavious Lakeith Chambers
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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Strapped In Calabasas
Hottest label in the game
Maybe I should retire
Walk out the house in Calabasas
I'm still clutching fire
Why you bulletproof the car
You must think you gon' die
They shoulda bulletproofed they car
Cuz nigga nothing slide
Real smoke get smoked nigga
Any day I can go back to selling dope nigga
Imagine that
I'm re'ing up with like 30 mil'
You sign with me
You get a plug and yo record deal
And that's a bonus
Bad bitches on us
Soccer team owner
Hellcats in traffic, just to do donuts
Been tryna buy the hood
Wanna buy the Grizzlies
If I buy a bitch a Birkin
Is you gon' be in my business
I just seen myself on Shade Room
Head first in a relationship
And I knew that shit was gon' fade soon
Cuz I'm the type of nigga take 2-3 bitches to Mexico
You know Tulum
Never gon' jump that broom for real (Never)
I'm just in the field
Cuz I don't know fake from real
Get the money, feel important
You want the Dior's or the Jordan's (Both)
Supreme Forces like a trey
We come from nothing by the way
I just fired my CPA (F*ck em)
Too much money for a safe
Type of money for an estate (Yeah)
So Mario & Maria & Kayla straight
For real
Dope boy life what I be living
Nothing special than making your first million (keep going)
Spend it how you wanna kuz it's yours
I know you gotta get that Cuban & that foreign
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
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Thinking Hours
Yeah
Ay
I just woke up
My whole city crying
Every 60 seconds they blowin' up my line (ring)
I ain't speakin' on shit that ain't no business of mine
And I ain't got the time (So I ain't even trying)
This the city of Memphis
This the city of Kings
I got faith in the city
Martin died for the dream
When you jump in these streets
You gotta know what that mean
That's why I don't leave the house
Without a switch and a beam
If I'm 100% honest, I'm a lil disappointed
With allegations and rumors
Like you niggas wanted
Me behind bars
Not in these foreign cars
I ain't on that petty shit
Nigga I'm creating stars
Who brought you Birthday Bash
Wit' yo favorite stars
Who the first nigga
Jumpin' out yo favorite cars (Gotti)
North Memphis trappin' ass nigga
And I ain't never let 'em play me
Like these rappin' ass niggas
Never been no ass kisser
Gotti a hater
Oh I'm the last nigga
So the street honoring lies
I wash my hands wit' 'em
Nigga I put on for this city
Without a flaw on my name
And dealt wit' everything that came wit' it
I put plagues on the wall
I put niggas on Billboard
I done lived a life these niggas would kill for
I was feeding the babies
Puttin' niggas through school
Turnt trappers to execs
Now they in board rooms
Nigga I changed the future
Never joined a gang
Stayed neutral
I ain't pocket watchin' niggas
If you winnin', I salute you
Maybe I'm too big for niggas to understand
Or maybe I'm too real
And I don't understand
Got a question for my city
Is you proud of me or not
Soccer team owner
I used to get it out the pot
At $20 a pop
In Ridgecrest sellin' rocks
Now I just broke ground to build a condo down on Popular
Wit' Gotti in the driver seat
They know nobody stopping us
Again, why would I be hatin'
Nobody hot as us
Do you know what I'm worth
Do you know what I own
You can check my investments
You can Google my home
And I don't say I'm a King
Cuz I sit on a throne
Nigga I say I'm a King
Cuz I stand on my own
I provide for my people
Me and my niggas are equal
I put on for my city
But
No one gets the prize
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
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Ya Bih
(Tay Keith, f*ck these niggas up)
I'm legend, my life should be studied
I come from nothing, ran up a thirty
F*cked on a superstar bitch and her buddy
Christian Louboutins, yeah, I be blooded
I'm not a Crip, but I got blues in my pocket
Too many blues, won't fit in the wallet
Christopher Wallace (Wallace), everything B.I.G, we are the hottest
Your bitch outta pocket, I'm f*ckin' her (f*ckin' her)
Your bitch a lil' beggar, I'm duckin' her (duckin' her)
Your bitch a lil' baddie, I'm cuffin' her (I'm lockin' her)
I turn your lil' bitch to a hustler (money up)
Your bitch on that dope, she a customer (she gon')
I'm tired of your bitch, had enough of her (I'm tired)
She like cars, we f*cked in a Cullinan (uh-uh)
Got the umbrella up
We made it to Waldorf (Astoria)
Sixty minutes and I had her drawers off (woo)
How you let a bitch make you fall off? (How?)
Ayy, come get your bitch out my call log (please)
A hundred miss calls, I block her (hello)
Oh yeah, she determined, can't stop her (damn)
She blew a bag at the doctor
Thick-thick, like she eat cornbread and pasta (yeah)
Yeah, my type of bitch don't need nan' nigga (nan')
She got a boutique and a cold figure (damn)
You know she young, got a old nigga (yup)
And she gon' keep a few hoes with her (yup)
Bitches be salty so they be subbin' me (sub)
Niggas be thirsty, bitches won't f*ck with her
She on her shit for real (for real)
Got her ass done but it look real
Your bitch outta pocket, I'm f*ckin' her (f*ckin' her)
Your bitch a lil' beggar, I'm duckin' her (duckin' her)
Your bitch a lil' baddie, I'm cuffin' her (I'm lockin' her)
I turn your lil' bitch to a hustler (money up)
Your bitch on that dope, she a customer (she gon')
I'm tired of your bitch, had enough of her (I'm tired)
She like cars, we f*cked in a Cullinan (uh-uh)
Got the umbrella up (go)
That ain't your bitch, that's our bitch (mine too)
We just gon' keep her at your house (then what?)
You spent a thousand at Ruth's Chris (tricked off)
I took that bitch to a dope house (my hood)
Do you see the difference? Its plenty (so many)
Hand out emoji, you know I'ma give it
Am I aimin' out with a girl from my city
Soon as she get drunk, we gon' film on some flicky
I'm deep in my duffle, roll up me some truffles
Wherever I go it's a smoke out (puff that)
My bitch got a bubble, I beat it like she got in trouble
Get wet as a buss down (wet)
Told her stay out my business, go get you a business
She talk to a vendor on WhatsApp (in China)
He mad as a bitch, let me find out
Had his ho in my hood, come hide out
You the type let a bitch get you for everything
Even not on me, I know how to play it, man
Them niggas corny, she f*ck with the bread gang
Shot my shot with a switch, I got dead aim (bow)
Still wishin' they had me ex beauty bitches
You couldn't pay me to pay 'em attention (nope)
She follow every rapper with a Richard Mille
Tryna f*ck her way up, get a meal ticket (facts)
Your bitch outta pocket, I'm f*ckin' her (f*ckin' her)
Your bitch a lil' beggar, I'm duckin' her (duckin' her)
Your bitch a lil' baddie, I'm cuffin' her (I'm lockin' her)
I turn your lil' bitch to a hustler (money up)
Your bitch on that dope, she a customer (she gon')
I'm tired of your bitch, had enough of her (I'm tired)
She like cars, we f*cked in a Cullinan (uh-uh)
Got the umbrella up (go)
Writer: Mario Mims, Demario White Jr., Brytavious Chambers
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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No Competition
Yeah
Yeah
Shh, shh, shh, shh
(GnB)
Yeah, yeah (June, you're a Jenius)
Yeah
I'll never compete with my niggas, I'll never compete with my niggas (beep)
I never compete with my niggas, I'm always gon' eat with my niggas
I never compete with my niggas, I never compete with my niggas
I never compete with my niggas, I'm always gon' eat with my niggas (beep, yeah)
Niggas spendin' paper on these bitches like it's competition
'Fore I was a rich nigga, all I knew was stoves and kitchens
Shorty got the bag with the big B, that's a brick for it
Shorty got the AP on her wrist, it ain't the lil' boy
All my niggas bosses in the camp, it ain't no lil' boys
All my niggas'll drill somethin'
All my niggas'll shh somethin'
You can't eat off my table, lil' nigga, you ain't no real one
You ain't got no money, nigga, that's your fault, go and get you some
I lead by example
I was down bad, f*cked up, for example
Jumped in an Enterprise rental, went to Atlanta
Met a nigga with a hundred bows and clamp 'em (give me that)
Remember me?
Ridin' in a Chevy (Chevy), now I'm in a Phantom
Front row of the awards (GRAMMYs) and I got the hammer
Lil' bro smokin' out the GRAMMYs, he ain't got no manners
But he got some money and he taking care of his family
I'll never compete with my niggas, I'll never compete with my niggas (beep)
I never compete with my niggas, I'm always gon' eat with my niggas
I never compete with my niggas, I never compete with my niggas
I never compete with my niggas, I'm always gon' eat with my niggas (beep, yeah)
Everybody rich (rich), ain't no competition (nah)
She everybody bitch (bitch), slut her, then we switchin' (yeah)
Everybody lit (lit)
Looking like a whole bunch of niggas sellin' bricks
This 'bout real as it gets (ha)
It's so many guns in this bitch, it's like a competition
Call it repetition
I'm good with the numbers on the scale, I'm a mathematician
I'm going to the bank or to the jail with my niggas
I know my position (what's that?), never tell on a nigga (ever)
I just pray this FN never fail on a nigga (on God)
I can send a contract or a bale to a nigga
You go before that judge, they try to rail them a nigga (damn)
I'll never compete with my niggas, I'll never compete with my niggas (beep)
I never compete with my niggas, I'm always gon' eat with my niggas
I never compete with my niggas, I never compete with my niggas
I never compete with my niggas, I'm always gon' eat with my niggas (beep, yeah)
Everybody rich (rich), ain't no competition (nah)
She everybody bitch (bitch), slut her, then we switchin' (yeah)
Everybody lit (lit)
Looking like a whole bunch of niggas sellin' bricks
This 'bout real as it gets (ha)
Everybody 'round my looking like Franklin on Snowfall (gang)
I sold plenty on blocks, I put my racks off in the Goyard (gang)
Don't try to cop no work from me if you know I don't know y'all (pussy)
I got plenty opps, ain't trustin' shit, I'll probably blow y'all (baow)
Thumb through that paper 'cause that's the type of shit I'm used to (frrt)
I'm tryna spin that pussy block 'til I knock him out his FUBU (skrrt, baow, baow, baow)
That's the way I do you, when you turn bitch, I don't salute you (pussy nigga)
Once you play foul with your dog, I swear, I can't recruit you (Heavy Camp)
Heavy Camp shit, we still steppin' on shit, we still take 'em down (gang)
I ain't tryna compete with nan' nigga unless we bustin' rounds
Stand to myself, lot of these niggas fake, I don't want them pussies around
I ain't looking for loyalty in none of these niggas 'cause he in lost and found
I'll never compete with my niggas, I'll never compete with my niggas (beep)
I never compete with my niggas, I'm always gon' eat with my niggas
I never compete with my niggas, I never compete with my niggas
I never compete with my niggas, I'm always gon' eat with my niggas (beep, yeah)
I got lawyers on retainer
Ridin' with that Drac' like I ain't famous
You ridin' with it too, shit, I don't blame you
We too close to these streets, this shit dangerous
Writer: Mario Mims, BDon, Sammie Marquez Benson, June James
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
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Drop
(J. White, I need a beat I can go off on, ooh)
Drop, shake your ass then (shake your ass then)
Drop, with your best friend (best friend)
Stop, that ain't your cousin, ho
That ain't your brother, ho
Y'all be f*ckin', ho
Drop, shake your ass then (shake your ass then)
Stop, with your best friend (best friend)
Drop, that ain't your cousin, ho
That ain't your brother, ho
Y'all be f*ckin', ho
Okay, my bitch go to school
She a good girl, but she still shakin' ass and titties (let's go)
She gon' act like it's Magic City
As soon as she get out of class, I hit it (let's go)
I be runnin' from hoes, get 'em off me
Wait outside my hotel, bitches stalk me
If she think we gon' chill, that bitch lost me (no)
Really with that, for real, you just talkin' (let's go)
Gotta watch what you do with that ass
Can't let you get close, you know I got that forty (watch out)
She call me her bro when she horny
I'm in love like T-Pain, I'ma call her my shorty (yeah, bitch)
Her ass make a whole lot of noise when I f*ck from the back
And it clap, it's annoying (let's go)
This bitch want a real nigga, he borin'
She make that ass jump out the gym like it's Jordan
That bitch gon' make it
Drop, shake your ass then (let's go)
Drop, with your best friend (I ain't your best friend, you need to)
Stop, that ain't your cousin, ho (uh-uh)
That ain't your brother, ho
Y'all be f*ckin', ho
Drop, shake your ass then (shake your ass then)
Stop, with your best friend (best friend)
Drop, that ain't your cousin, ho
That ain't your brother, ho
Y'all be f*ckin', ho
He think we family, we not (we friends)
I be burnin' up the top (ugh)
I call her sis, she want the dick
We went half on a spot
We f*ck on her friends together (together)
She my homegirl, whatever (whatever)
She got a nigga, she in love
But I be f*ckin' on her better (uh)
Yeah, I'm her friend, friend (I am)
I wanna f*ck her again, again
Introduce me as her brother friend
That's big cap, we pretend, 'tend
These hoes got so much game, you niggas be lame
Get out your feelings, you should be ashamed
Lil' bitch from the hood
I took her to Wafi and got her a chain
Call her my twin, she with the gang
I am (I am), that nigga (that nigga)
Big old strap but the check bigger
Truck four wheels worth six figures
Beverly Hills residence, eight figures
New RAM that's two hundred (two hundred)
Just touched a mill', I been done it (been done it)
F*ckin' on a bitch from the back
Smack her on the ass, bumpin' Three 6, "Who Run It"
Drop, shake your ass then (shake your ass then)
Drop, with your best friend (best friend)
Stop, that ain't your cousin, ho
That ain't your brother, ho
Y'all be f*ckin', ho
Drop, shake your ass then (shake your ass then)
Stop, with your best friend (best friend)
Drop, that ain't your cousin, ho
That ain't your brother, ho
Y'all be f*ckin', ho
Writer: Anthony Germaine White, Mario Mims
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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Ima Show You
"Yeah, nigga, just off of what I'm sayin' on the hook
Bitch, you gotta walk me home
Real gleeful, real seeful shit
It's a glizzy toy, bitch"
When I stepped up out the can, I was in all Fendi
I done traded in the Benz for a new Bentley
I need two hundred bands, nigga, all twenty
I'ma show you how to geek in the booth
I'ma show you how to geek in the coupe
Girl, you know you wanna freak with me too
I'ma show you how to sneak from your dude, baby
I'ma show you how to creep on ya boo
Let me show you how to turn your sad face to a smile (smile)
Let me show you how a real nigga really hold you down
Gotta move to the next, 'cause your ex was a f*ck nigga (f*ck him)
I don't got to tell you, baby girl you know what's up with him
I can buy you roses, nah, I buy you a Rolls Royce (Phantom)
I am not a trick but I feel you deserve one
I'm Big Gotti, I ain't f*ckin' with you lil' bitches (I ain't f*ckin' with you)
I'm Big Gotti, I got niggas in the penitentiary (my niggas)
I send them kites and I write 'em
I was there when they indict 'em
Even 'fore he wanted to fight 'em (my nigga)
That's my nigga, I'm just like him (yeah)
Welcome home, celebrations
Here's a bag no hesitation
You stood on the situation
'Cause we both knew what we was facin'
When I stepped up out the can, I was in all Fendi
I done traded in the Benz for a new Bentley (skrrt)
I need two hundred bands, nigga, all twenty (all twenty)
I'ma show you how to geek in the booth (in the booth)
I'ma show you how to geek in the coupe (in the coupe)
Girl, you know you wanna freak with me too
I'ma show you how to sneak from your dude, baby (how to do it)
I'ma show you how to creep on ya boo (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I just traded in the 'Presi for the Richard
I just text my ex bitch, "I still love you but I won't miss you" (bitch, I'm over it)
Gotta know I'ma street nigga, if I kiss you, you the one
They say I'm trippin'
Fifty-million dollar nigga totin' guns
I got mental issues
Yeah, I thought the street shit was fun (crazy)
R.I.P to Moe 3 and R.I.P to Von (God bless)
I ain't rapped in six months, but I done touched a pack
I just bought a condo in Miami, shoutout to Yak
It's the Rolls, it's the Lamborghini doors, for me
Your bitch spoiled, she ain't loyal, and it shows, to me
They just hoes, to me
Boy, I'm trappin' out Dior, it ain't the clothes for me (it's the paper)
When I stepped up out the can, I was in all Fendi
I done traded in the Benz for a new Bentley
I need two hundred bands, nigga, all twenty
I'ma show you how to geek in the booth
I'ma show you how to geek in the coupe
Girl, you know you wanna freak with me too
I'ma show you how to sneak from your dude, baby
I'ma show you how to creep on ya boo
Writer: Anthony Howard, Bill K. Kapri, David Mescon, Derek Garcia, Mario Mims
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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