| They know just who we are
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| Roll in fo' deep cars
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| Polo down, country bound
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| Tight like Mason jars
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| My grandma used to say
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| Boy you got, boy you got, boy you got gumption
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| Boy you got, boy you got, boy you got gumption
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| Boy you got, boy you got, boy you got gumption
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| Boy you got, boy you got, boy you got gumption
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| First off, I’m the country of the countriest
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| Mississippi bitch, what you know about this country shit?
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| Hold on, prolong, I’m knowing what you thanking
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| Naw, it ain’t the chitterlings that got this shit here stanking
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| Jumping, bumping through the speakers, sub booming
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| Shawty, I’ve been stroking is what I’ve been doing
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| Everybody got something to say about how we get down
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| when we get round, cause it’s thirty-eights on the Crown Vic
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| So I use a ladder to get down with
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| Ay, thick and for the picking’s what I’m fine with
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| Her face ahh! |
| Ass astounding
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| She micro-braided, I pull it and pound it
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| That malt liquor keep a nigga grounded
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| on the porch with my kinfolk lounging
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| up underneath the stars
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| They talk about my state, but they know just who we are
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| Psychedelic, excelling on Daytons and Vogues
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| majestic, I’m killing these hoes
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| Sprinkle game of the greenest, the meanest of flows
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| Planting seeds in your mentals and leave it to grow
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| Eager to know, how to get money and bring it to daddy
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| Evenly so, buy me some gators and pull up the Caddy
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| Open my do', jump from my car, round and clean up my palace
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| Throw on my robe, run my bath water and fill up my chalice
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| Sit on my balance beam until her belly cream
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| If that pussy needs ramming, I’m battering
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| Player way, tailor made, always in a gator state
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| '92 Bulls on a fool, that’s how players play
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| For the win like M.J. straight away
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| Shook 'em off, no time left, fuck it, fade away
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| Buzzer, it’s all over with
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| Champagne with lobster and shrimp, pimp
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| Ay, ay player play on, I roller-skate on
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| I was taught to give 'em something just to hate on
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| Like a Ford engine light, I just stay on
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| or, to find a yellow belly I can take home
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| or, lay on cause it ain’t nothing but a skill to
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| You either get her done barbecue or meal dude
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| Let the super-fly inside you steer you
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| because being lame’s a disease, it can kill you
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| So let me put you on these hoes
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| Chevy that be heavy and the wall that be Vogue
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| Peanut butter guts with the grape jelly glow
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| Chromed-out bumper with the Cobain do’s
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| That’s suicide shit if ain’t know that
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| Need a lil' pimping? |
| Baby girl, let me pour that
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| Sow that up with some dough on it
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| I was born with the gift of gab, so motherfucker throw a bow on it |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gumpshun, artist - Big K.R.I.T.. Album song K.R.I.T. Wuz Here, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп