Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I Gotta Eat, artist - Jae Millz. Date of issue: 04.02.2013
Song language: English
I Gotta Eat |
| Fred, know how we all cake — brick of raw weight |
| Picture me gettin' rich, not using poor traits |
| I orchestrate to pay bills |
| I can shoot a jump shot with a bag of money, Jae Millz |
| What up, sir? |
| Got the bright tan fur |
| On the phone with the left hand while the right hand stir |
| Think about all the money we run through |
| Won’t stop 'til my niggas get 150 a bundle |
| I’m on the block, holler — top dollar |
| I’m talkin' G money, like Nino with the Rottweiler |
| Blackjack at the casino with some guap fallin' |
| Sit back just like in the back of that Impala |
| TV and block work, I’m on it, what? |
| Fred hot out here, now I’m warming up |
| Millz hit my phone and said he got a beat |
| Well bring a fork and a plate, nigga, I gotta eat |
| Crusin' in my jeep |
| Thinkin' of a master plan, why these niggas sleep? |
| And while these niggas sleep, I’m out here in these streets |
| Chasin' dead presidents 'cause a nigga gotta eat… |
| Yeah nigga, I gotta eat |
| No food on the table, then the fam' can’t sleep |
| I pray to God I don’t kill a nigga |
| But if I do, God’ll be with it, nigga |
| Only time can tell how the clock tick |
| Cold-ass Coupe, R&B hot chick |
| Three personalities, call me tri-polar |
| Heard my enemy got cancer — good, he’ll die slower |
| I’m thinkin' death — 'cause life seems scary |
| Just pass the gravy, on his whole 'hood, Hail Mary |
| I ain’t chillin'… |
| 'Til the mansion four floors, all the walls got awards |
| And my team ain’t gotta work |
| Niggas say my time is comin', it’d better hurry |
| 'Cause millions I’m tryna bury before I’m buried |
| My chick early twenties but she think like she 30 |
| Yeah, she roll with me, so I gotta make her closet ferry |
| That 850, I got a nigga savin' his chips |
| 'Cause right along with that I need the four-door 6 |
| Grand Coupin', translucent roofin' |
| That’s why my grind’s stupid, stupid… |
| Yes — I ain’t ask to be boss, but I appear to |
| Teks under the seat, keep checkin' the rearview |
| Never duck when it’s beef, bread, I give a clear view |
| Feel who in the streets? |
| Come try me, I dare you |
| Damn kids don’t understand, live |
| Just know to die or ride for who their fam' is |
| After the dark, Allah, scram in my man’s crib |
| Word is, niggas ain’t rob him, but his man did (damn shame) |
| We keep that in the circle |
| Three stacks for the purple, you need that if it’s work, dude |
| See? |
| Always pullin' on these two straps like Urkel |
| Move back, I’ll hurt you — shoot back and merk you |
| I call it extortin', y’all call it payin' dues |
| Like I’m dolo at a table with a plate of food |
| Up North is dead 'til it’s read in the Daily News |
| Player’s Ball, I play the wall in my gator shoes |