| Lyrics: | Chorus: X2
Tell me what you're lookin' for, what you want?
Look inside my trunk you can
find what you want
[Kane]
1008 grams in the trunk, that's a Kilo for you punks
Kane and Abel in this bitch, gettin' rich as Trump
Blowin' skunk on the I-10 to New
Orleans from Houston
Alsmost home, hit Gotti on the cell phone
Get some B12, get out some
pots
When I get there we gonna cook and chop these rocks
It's a never ending game, and my
hustle don't stop
It's a devestating pain when I use my glock
[Abel]
Chrome duce
dutton and a chrome 600
High as the fuck, but we can still get blunted
TRU niggaz don't
talk, ya yap, ya get punished
A hundred G's cash in the stash (all hundreds)
Nigga bout to
wreck shop
Post it up, on the high block, rocks and my polo socks
Just a young nigga
hustle out the trunk for dough
Got the chip, flip phones by the corner store
Chorus
X2
[Gotti]
I got the properest product
From the weed to the board to the pluck
Some chip phones to 6 shot chromes, so whats up?
Step in the cut
Don't let them feds
no what's happenin' with us
Because they love to bust a nigga nuts
And have me hard to
wear some handcuffs
So I keepin' my eyes open and my mouth shut
I only fuck with my
gambino's
Cause everything that I do is illegal
From racketeering to casinos to choppin'
weight
With my nigga Fino, me, Hound, and Kane and Abel
On a highway, cell phones on
hopin' the feds ain't listenin' on three way
They tap our frequency
So we got to watch
what we say, from New Orleans to L.A
We got money to make, Gotti, I play for high stakes
No mistakes involved, ca |
