gotit - leesta lyrics
[intro]
loesoe!
[chorus]
off a perc like lil got-t
big glock .40, i got it
f-ckin’ these hoes, i got it
and my money too tall, can’t count it
pull up in a range and your girl wanna start it
can’t trust you, can’t trust n-body
got a big clip, that .38 hit
get your -ss gone for a brick
lil boy, i’m rich, slatt
moneyman like i’m mitch
i just made a hundred bands out the ditch
you can hate on me, you still ain’t sh-t
got a glock .40 full of them hollow tips
n-body believed in me, not even my family
seems like n-body gave a f-ck ’bout me
’til i walked ’round with a few bands on me
[verse]
n-body believed, now i’m on a flight overseas
makin’ bands, i don’t care ’bout no degree
never gave a f-ck ’bout a b-tch on me
lil autumn used to ride ’round with a sd
man, i got real shooters, don’t speak on me
i don’t answer my phone, gotta tweak on me
got your girl on a leash and might sleep on me (loesoe!)
changing my sleeve
why the f-ck do you think she is sweet
pull up with a chopper, let it eat
g2 in my reach
and i got a new b-tch every week
i been runnin’ through green like cleats
they don’t care about lee
all they wanna do is leech
’cause i walk with bands on me
and i got a shooter, boy, don’t put your hands on me
and i’m runnin’ up money, you see these stacks on me
i remember late nights
stayin’ up late tryna get some bands
then my girl left me
i was up in the hospital, prayin’ for a second chance
you can never understand
you can never relate to me, man
i was down bad, they didn’t wait for me, man
no, i got sh-t you ain’t finna take from me, man
but they’re on my d-ck, got ’em hatin’ on me, man
i don’t get it
choppa on me, it’s h-ttin’
my vvs diamonds, they hittin’
and everyone around me wit’ it, that’s not cap at all
stopped sippin’ tech, now i’m havin’ withdrawals
hoes on my line, i’ma go when they call
hit saks fifth, i don’t f-ck with no malls
and we keep big sticks, lil boy, wit’ them poles
[chorus]
off a perc like lil got-t
big glock .40, i got it
f-ckin’ these hoes, i got it
and my money too tall, can’t count it
pull up in a range and your girl wanna start it
can’t trust you, can’t trust n-body
got a big clip, that .38 hit
get your -ss gone for a brick
lil boy, i’m rich, slatt
moneyman like i’m mitch
i just made a hundred bands out the ditch
you can hate on me, you still ain’t sh-t
got a glock .40 full of them hollow tips
n-body believed in me, not even my family
seems like n-body gave a f-ck ’bout me
’til i walked ’round with a few bands on me (loesoe!)
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