Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Gotta Have Heart , by - Ant BanksRelease date: 19.04.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Gotta Have Heart |
| That’s Ant BEEZY, nigga — off the HEEZY |
| Is he my nigga? |
| FO SHEEZY nigga! |
| What, what? |
| Say what, say, say what, say what? |
| (Kev B in the motherfuckin house) |
| Say what, say what, say what, say what? |
| (Bombay all day nigga this is fo-TAY!) |
| (Bombay all day punk this is FO-TAY NIGGA!) |
| Fresh up out the Testarossa |
| Still buzzin off that sticky green Cali doja |
| Last night had, way too many bitches jock |
| Mr. Player himself, gon' always keep it poppin |
| And stoppin you and yo' ability to come tight, mack like Dolemite |
| Sometimes you learn the hard way, but you gon' get it right |
| Keep listenin, discipline plays a strong part |
| The majority of these bitches ain’t got no heart |
| Enough to roll with the punches, hundred dolla bills and brunches |
| Comin home in somethin way tight that’s scrumptious like |
| Steak and lobster, dank from rastas |
| And we don’t roll with nothin but, G’s and mobsters! |
| Zenithes, Daytons, twenty inch chrome ones |
| Never know the feelin of a bitch 'til you own one! |
| Yeah we Bay riders, call us, murder for hire |
| Closer, than hittin home runs than McGwire and Sosa |
| We supposed to be, killin 'em off, hittin 'em off |
| With this old ill shit, givin 'em an overdose of this so real shit |
| So feel this, way down deep up in your liver |
| Give a, nig a chance for the alcohol to make you quiver |
| Still a, assassin blastin any nigga who think he can outlast |
| The master splash yo' ass in a, pool of blood |
| So ask the, nigga who done rolled up and got his, dome split |
| (Dome split) I don’t give a fuck motherfucker wait 'til the chrome hit! |
| They say you got to have heart |
| I roll with dese niggas dey mob figures and killas you niggas feel us |
| They say you got to have PAPER |
| Shit, cause life ain’t long, nigga best to get yo' hustle on |
| A player’s proposition got 'em wishin they was laced up |
| Perfect conversation plus my new just game I make up |
| Talkin bout, mash you got me bout it now I’m gettin dough |
| Dress in style every day, own many expensive clothes |
| Ay tell yo' potnahs they can be a part of all the benefits |
| Ay, pinky finger diamonds all the finest ain’t no limits and |
| What we tryin to do menage-a-trois up in the rental then |
| You can make a move you never lose with a gentleman |
| All about my paper fettucini and lucciano |
| If we keep this pimpin right we movin into condos |
| Baby wanna treat to play, she wanna lace me |
| Dress me up from head to toe and shoppin sprees at Macy’s |
| Ay, copped me all the flyest shit, like Tommy Hilfiger |
| Calvin Klein cologne just wanna zone with a real nigga |
| We can do it live and go through all your wildest fantasies |
| Tell me yeah you wanna be as freaky as you wanna be |
| Niggas is so fake and phony |
| Nine times out of ten they ain’t Oscar Mayer beef they Lady Lee bologna |
| Speakin on shit they never did, soundin like a tweeter |
| Wishin they was a mid, ho you don’t know you blowin out like an amp |
| Lickin mo' pussy than the post office lick stamps |
| Money over bitches, boy you don’t remember? |
| Just kick back and sautee, nigga never simmer |
| Oh yeah you hoes you triflin too, haha |