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| Gonzoe Miscellaneous Got it Made [Gonzoe] (talking) Uh-oh, (uh-oh) here it go again (here it go) Oh fuck! (oh shit) shit, shake that shit bitch Huh, (yeah) yeah, it's me, Gonzoe Came to rock you mother fuckers right quick You know what I'm sayin? Kick that thesoline Know what I'm sayin [Verse 1 - Gonzoe] Nigga, I'm tryin to have it made Fuckin with mink and suede Hoppin out of jags on niggaz When me shit parfait Like Livarache Hoe, smell the heats of meakee I'm too cocky My life's too rocky So fuck y'all Nigga pissy off with me You separate all It means nothin I talk your bitch out the drawls For the fuck of it And turp off bumpin It's in the shed Bounce to this Cause you feelin it Respect me killin it nigga I'mma be that rich cat Tell them niggaz where I hold my chips and whips at I'm a young nigga never found guilty Clean as fuck but still filthy Workers on the corners tryin to milk me For knowledge Like 'Damn! you smashin in college?' Big ass glots and keepin dollars Don't bother choppin work no more I hit the liquor store Relax with a glass of conyac and smoke Nigga [Chorus - Gonzoe] I got it made! (got it made) Fuckin with mink and suede (mink and suede) All my pieces par made Bitch, I'm doin this shit my way (my way) Bitch, all us niggaz we got it made I'm paid, fuckin with mink and suede Hoppin out of jags on niggaz (us) When me shit bumpay Like liverache Hoe, smell the heats of meakee (hoe) I'm too cocky My ice too rocky So fuck y'all [Verse 2 - Gonzoe] Uh, it's too much money to me Y'all niggaz is actin fake Playa-hatin, talkin up on my shit like Ricki Lake Comin chili's for hoes Why you lyin bout who you know? Stay broke, never got no ervails on the smoke, lock the timmy Foo, you killin me, actin phony Sittin on your cake with a round of homies, you're pretty tony Gettin worked, cochberts, Versace, Domeinberg What you bought is what she wear when she go do dirt The truth hurt All the same With no backs to claim But you slept because it was all part of the game Chorus [Verse 3 - Gonzoe] Yeah, y'all niggaz can't touch me I'm spotless, you dusty My pistol crusty All the niggaz I wet They all trust me Till the federals bust me Out for the dusty Gangsta like Bugsy Livin lavish up in luxury The Bombay, Mr.Icicle Come swallow the pickle Us dons all stressed and rippled It ain't a thing Tryin to find this game man Stack up for the drought Cause one day it's gonna rain In big drops Cop, blind side of my Cyclops As it bubble, I watch the pattern transform To rocks nigga, going to glocks, money in stacks Cause he got this, and I got that (what) |
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