Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Always Be Gangsta Freestyle, artist - Kevin Gates. Date of issue: 18.03.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Always Be Gangsta Freestyle |
| Men greet men |
| All well |
| Stand, All ten |
| I’m all the way in there |
| Ya heard me? |
| I don’t wanna talk |
| Get ‘Em Gates |
| Divorced all my wives, cancelled all my soul ties |
| Countertops in the Southside, lettin' the coke dry (Coke dry) |
| I don’t get upset, I ain’t never duck and wreck (Duck and wreck) |
| I’m a muslim, yeah |
| Let me know when you wanna bump your head |
| Wanna post up on me, for some bread |
| Tell 'em I ain’t scared (Let's go) |
| Jumped the Hellcat with no tint |
| Workin' my BlackBerry |
| T-Shirt white, bitch bright, feel like I’m Jeff Perry |
| Swaggin' from the back, with hard pipe and she said «Yes, Kevin» |
| What I told you 'bout that get it right and she said «Yes, daddy» |
| Rumors in the city, I ain’t worried 'bout none of them |
| Mix the H with the fen, you could go fetch you a Benz |
| Bulletproof Cutlass, Supreme (Ooh) |
| Necklace enforced it with, bling |
| Truck haul the interstate, make the Honda touch down with them Bs |
| Rollie on glisten, ka-ting |
| Little, this shit was a, dream |
| Bread Winner ego go, inc |
| Jump in the whip and go, screech |
| Come up from nothing, gold teeth in the gutta, this street |
| Cut up with cutters and cleats, thuggin', I’m somethin' unique |
| My children lovin', my women infatuated pullin' the paper from outta that hoe |
| Everything platinum, ain’t regular status |
| He tuckin' that pack and I’m throwin' em loads |
| These women mean nothin, they stealin' my energy from me, was spinnin' me outta |
| control |
| Fuckin' with trash, I learned my lesson (Ooh) |
| Two hunnid K for a new perspective (I did) |
| Got my attention, that ain’t bad (Come on) |
| Get out of line and I’m gettin' you smashed |
| Tell me it’s up and I’m on your ass (I'm on your ass) |
| I’m in the tank, I’m doin' the dash |
| Keep your security 'round you |
| Knowin' you pussy and I am not scared of nothing (I ain’t scared of nothing) |
| I’ma control the threats, I show the press |
| And turn on the pressure ugly |
| I made a lot of mistakes in life but I’m up in rank, I’m growin' from that |
| I gave a lot of you niggas some stripes, but I ain’t aight, ain’t going for that |
| I’m raisin' my son for to be a lil man and he 'bout to live in reality |
| We open with prayer and stick to the plan and this is the only reality |
| Your moral compass is all you got |
| Life in general, cold sport |
| The higher ups gon' play polite |
| The system still do what they want |
| Cool to kick it, but always remember that you still a nigga when you go to court |
| Been in that blender with plenty of course |
| Blemish my image, ain’t gettin' no awards |
| Steady tryna be a better man, still I handle business like a gangsta (Gangsta) |
| I’ma always be gangsta (Gangsta), I’ma always be gangsta (Gangsta) |
| Steady tryna be a better man, still I handle business like a gangsta (Gangsta) |
| I’ma always be gangsta (Gangsta), I’ma always be gangsta (Gangsta) |
| Respect the laws of the jungle, nigga layin' law down in the slums |
| I’m the same nigga from the haunted house, with Jermaine Hurd dealing drugs |
| I’m the same nigga had Marlo Mike, underneath the wing off the bus |
| I just wanna see you come up, quarter ki of green tryna let 'em thug |
| I’m the same nigga flood the wild side, with the loratabs in the mud (I did) |
| In the bottom, standin' outside, Gates got the cocaine and the bud |
| Rest in peace, Lil' Phat, drop top jag come in all black |
| Him and Bell, pull on me and Julio, on Louisa Street for the pack |
| Let me take a nigga back |
| 'Fore I graduated with them racks |
| The whole Southside eatin', Willy and Trae both jumpin' out Camaros |
| That’s when Big London had the lac |
| That’s when Big Head had the lac |
| Boo and L playin' in the lac |
| We on Arizona in the lab |
| Big Yak and Ivy in the CTSs, wit the spinners on em, that’s a fact |
| I was uptown at the Easter Bash |
| White Stan Smith’s with the tag |
| With the long dreads, Polo collar |
| With Jabo shorts, lettin' em sag |
| With the red boxers, wit the white horses, all four pockets full of bands |
| Ayy with all due respect (Come on man) |
| Ayy, that’s me you tryna be, you heard? |
| (Ayy, haha, for real) |
| I don’t chill like that, like that |
| Mane come on man, my lil soldiers on it mane, I ain’t worried 'bout nothin' |
| (Nothin') |
| It’s really nothin' (Man you playin') |