Kevin Gates - John Gotti Lyrics

John Gotti Lyrics by Kevin Gates



[Intro]

Sometimes I tell a bitch shut up and pass the weed [x3]

Free my niggas!

I been smoking [?], they wish I was with em

Free my niggas!



[Verse 1]

My cousin CJ tried to hit me with a brick of raw

In Alexandria, it’s nothing for to get it gone

With music, I ain’t won awards, but I kept it gangster

Gon be a god in New Orleans like that nigga Daymond

Landlord in the south like my nigga [?]

Corvette in front of David Ways screaming free Lee Lucas

Fuck that nigga bitch, I got her saying free Lee Lucas

Beeto and Bryan bitch, I just got off the phone with him

My old friends hatin, sending me the wrong signals

My dog recorded conversations, man what’s wrong with him

You got them college niggas fools, I be with stone killers

Doing bad ‘fore they switched on me

When you’re out of power it’s over

Everybody love you when you feed the streets

When you leave the streets, they don’t know you

Brooke used to love till another nigga with a bigger check approached her

Up in DCI, when I was calling home she was at the nigga’s house smoking

I was trying to go to church as a family but her and him be going

Audi S7 was a surprised I went and bought that for her

Texting, saying someone that I love let him use his whip as a loaner

Praise be to god, everything done in the dark really come back on you

Cocaine flipper, got the same niggas I came with, and we rolling

In the studio with my nigga Hood, but them niggas round him, they pussy

Gangster shit, get to going platinum, they’ll sit around and be looking

I’m so depressed I’ll kill myself, would somebody go head and cook me

Fuck!



[Hook]

Bet a lot pussy niggas want to murder Brasi

Boulevard [?],and Logo in a Maserati

Boobi, black gunner, and Mazi they still a catch a body

And if you fuck around with razor, bitch I’m out my body

Sideways, coupe be out my body

Whole clique pull up in Vettes, bitch we out our body

And you ever wanna disrespect it then it’s kamikaze

I just be with me a shooter like I’m John Gotti

I feel like John Gotti

John Gotti

Cause it ain’t shit to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti

It ain’t shit to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti



[Verse 2]

Praise to Allah, I was born a God, with the murder game I'm righteous

Cancel shows just for razor wet, and I don't know another just like it

I love Bunker, but despite the love, I don't know what made him dislike it

But me and Gunner in the Porsche truck and we screeching off like lightning

Fast, doing the dash, your bitch on my ass, she want me to smash

Flip out and flash, I’d rather get cash

Dreka she bad and she into bags

Up in the Louis, a milli on Poochie

I tell em it’s Gucci when they want them bands

I got them racks and no longer wear jewelry

Cause I’m bout my business, and back selling sand

I don’t get tired

I’m bout my business, and back selling sand

I’m bout my business, and back selling sand

Packed up my bags and jumped out on the freeway

Say house where the heart is, don’t know where I’m going

Actavis drinking, I’m leaning and pouring

Those who don’t get it say what are you on

My mother had sex with an angel

Born in a martyr and ain’t even know it

Driving on low while the side of my Porsche

Beat the fuck out a bitch, ain’t no slamming my doors

I’m only excited by spiritual things and I swear I can’t wait to move on

All my niggas I lost know i miss you can’t wait to be with you

I’m on my way home

When they flip the script without warning

Talking bout shit you never did for her

God bless you and break in your body

Wish I would let you dig in my pockets

Lazy ass bitch, get up and start grinding

Out on the streets, you never been balling

Finally got blessed and money started piling

Got my first mil, a nigga ain’t smiling, wyling



[Hook]