gangsta vybes (gangstafied) - finesse2tymes ft. b.g. lyrics
[background chorus]
we gangstafied you should know, you should know, you should know
we gangstafied this is for the real true gangstas
[scalez]
[f2t]
we live in a life of crime (crime), lies (lies) , deceit (deceit), disloyalty (disloyalty)
fake n*ggas f*ck up the streets with all this poison (ayy, this fake sh*t)
anything pop out (what?), motherf*ckers recording it (that’s crazy)
broke b*tches choicy (huh?), d*mn my mama warned me (yeah she told me)
d*mn i should’ve listened (sh*t)
d*mn i should’ve listened (f*ck)
three days ago i found out my young n*gga snitchin’ (that’s crazy)
takin’ care of my kids, baby mama still b*tchin’ (b*tchin’)
broke n*ggas trickin’, spinnin’, fallin’ in their feelings
goin’ head first, purse first, ass last
get the bread first (let me get that)
i’m the boss, i’m the king, i get fed first (me)
you run it up, they lock you up, give you a fed shirt (that’s f*cked up)
that’s how the feds work (that’s how it go)
we in a lose, lose (lose) situation gotta face it (gotta face it)
go get your money (go get it)
you gon’ get caught procrastinatin’ (for real)
you’re playing k!ller, but gon’ get k!lled for perpetratin’ (for real)
i’d body one of these n*ggas, but that’s just too much information (can’t say that)
same gang (same), same n*ggas, same hitters with me (same)
same choppers (choppers) f*ck the feds, got my pistols with me
do a bid (do it), never talk, show your paperwork (shh)
and ‘fore you start beefin’ with a n*gga, get some paper first (get some paper first)
50k on firearms (firearms), million in bond money (in bond money)
don’t give a f*ck about a show (why?), i got the bomb comin’ (i got the bomb comin’)
i’m tryna f*ck megan thee stallion (why?), make her my bottom hoe (make her my bottom hoe)
you need to f*ck with some pimpin’ (some pimpin’)
come hit the lotto hoe (come hit the lotto hoe)
i just landed on the private lear’ jumped in the maybach (jumped in the maybach)
subliminal ass rappers, you don’t like me, n*gga say that
they like he went to the feds and got back out, that n*gga snitchin’
mad, ’cause i got out and ran it up, n*gga, quit b*tchin’ (b*tch ass n*gga)
[b.g.]
ooh, finesse, what’s up, homie?
you know i felt that sh*t all in my soul, man (all in there)
you know real n*ggas do real things, man, these n*ggas ain’t livin’ like us (at all)
look
i went from designer clothes and f*ckin’ hoes (to what?)
to khaki suits, noodles, and rice bowls (uh*huh)
from gettin’ dough and rockin’ shows
to pullin’ my d*ck off pictures of naked hoes (i pulled off)
man, the boy was drove, missed my life on the road
couldn’t complain to my celly (at all), he had life with no parole (parole)
they caught me with a knife, did 30 days in the hole
and on top of that, they sent me into the motherf*ckin’ smooth
my kids were steady growin’ (growin’), hoes steady hoein’ (hoein’)
my n*gga boosie went home, and my dawg was steady blowin’ (blowin’)
my n*gga weezy steady tourin’, but he’s a b*tch and it’s showin’ (showin’)
i’m still a livin’ legend, don’t act like you didn’t know it
but they had my hands tied, caught up on that chain gang
just like on the streets, all through the pen, you know my name rang
my rep’s solid (solid), name good (good)
paper work right, i’m gucci (i’m gucci)
i’ve done it all, you know my life’s a f*ckin’ movie, n*gga
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