Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gotta Have It, artist - Knoc CityDate of issue: 19.01.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Gotta Have It |
| See we gotta have it |
| Me and my niggas here to lay you down |
| Ain’t playing, so hit the floor |
| And don’t make no fucking sound |
| We gotta have it |
| We move just like the mob, do |
| This game is real, caps get peeled |
| Fuck around, I’ll have to murk you |
| Yo, from cocktails, 3−80's with the M-1, we bury the jewelry store |
| Posting, yelling 'get yours', we on Pivot |
| Coke pilot mink, Kay Gatling Island, Trini and Chi |
| All day gangsta, murda niggas, sleep |
| We at the red light, mapped 'em, drove through, as all block |
| Caught they attention, I leaned |
| Time Magazine with my face on it, how we position the CREAM |
| Niggas is large, they all start scheming |
| Whatever, truck 'em in them leathers, we was stuck together |
| Fuck around and have to shoot off fingers, yo |
| You know it, approach the glass with the maskes on |
| No time for freeze, just pull out and blast on 'em |
| Sat back, Denzel status, Man on Fire |
| Had the burner with the flash on it |
| Skated with six hundred and cash, he did the dummy |
| We splashed 'em, then boat it in a CLS glass, we vicious |
| Come one, I see my cash is getting low |
| And if I can’t shake no dough, what the fuck am I living for |
| It’s easy for my heater, just to let these niggas know |
| At the same time, I will take mines to persue to my cash flow |
| You know you gotta be sick with it |
| Call up my mans, cause we about to go get it |
| A hundred grand is you with it, a smash for the cause |
| Looting to the spot, putting everybody on pause |
| Let me see a broke jaw, nigga, I want it all |
| I’m talking to all of ya’ll, don’t get it, you gon' fall |
| Or fuck it, you gon' crawl, my nigga, we laying law |
| We cock back the strap, attack and shake it off |
| Glocks’ll get at you, and body your position |
| In this rap, fire my ratchet, I’m shutting this rap |
| Caddy steel, face the back, or blown the fuck off from rap |
| Reach across and blow this shit out your boss in the back |
| Survived in a porsche, I rap, at a buck 80 verse |
| Or verse, daddy, let’s do it for change |
| I’m forty eight hundred grams, one chain, the trend, a new range |
| Or any project bench, with all my shit on |
| Flashy don, Gucci on uptowns |
| Fucking up classics, gay baskets, D.H. niggas |
| Won’t snitch for shit, criminals that spit |
| Oh shit, I forgot all about you man, twenty and change |
| Ferocious tongues, coming at you, redirecting your whole shit |
| Blunt stole, dealing sick |
| Glocks’ll blow chunks out your face, looking up in the sky |
| Seeing Ol' Dirty’s face in the cloud |