Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Keep It Gutta, artist - Lil Boosie. Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
Keep It Gutta |
| I raised up my project window |
| And I smell Indo |
| Hollered at my kin folk |
| After that I big smoke |
| I hit my nigga Gutta with them gutta ways |
| All of my cousins bustin' K’s |
| So I was lead astray |
| And I don’t pray, so I’m thinking bout death |
| I never once, thought bout blinking myself |
| Cause I got bank to accept! |
| You heard that green and yellow cd |
| That bitch gutta! |
| The world-wide struggle |
| Or the one about my mother (Child so bad) |
| I’m bangin' on the corner down in Cali |
| With the Bloods and Crips |
| See Lil' Boosie, yeah Lil' Boosie, man we love that shit! |
| I figured that I’d die in jail if I stay in the hood |
| So I’m tryin' to make a mil |
| And get the fuck out Baton Rouge |
| I wish 2Pac'a hear the shit that I was speaking to you |
| I betcha 2Pac'a have Lil' Boosie on an album or two |
| And did my daddy go to Thug Mansion? |
| (Shiiit)If he did |
| I know he saved a spot for his kid |
| And we gone G' it! |
| Keep it gutta, nigga! |
| (Gutta, gutta, gutta! Yeah) |
| Cause I’m a victim of this game! |
| (Victim of this game mane!) |
| Let’s keep it gutta, nigga! |
| (All the way gutta!) |
| Cause I was taught to get it hard like a man! |
| For sheezy! |
| Verse two, is for my hearse crew |
| Like Raw Nitty, Lil D, and Big Ro too |
| Do you remember smoking dust with Silky Slim, headbussa?! |
| When we was slangin' nine |
| And had these niggas scared of us! |
| My hood full of floods (floods) |
| But my hood full of thugs |
| Who in that pen |
| Rep Baton Rouge til the day that they touch |
| And you don’t know a nigga gutta as me! |
| (Gutta) |
| Who can tell ya some shit that ya mother’a see |
| Like you bein' locked up, til 2003 |
| When you 'posed to be out chea |
| Flickin' and ballin like me |
| And all I see, is eyes on me |
| So like Pac |
| I hope it’s not another fucking robbery |
| I ain' no rookie! |
| Fourteen, sellin' cookies! |
| Had all the hoes looking! |
| And ya know why nigga |
| Because I’m gutta! |
| My pants hang low |
| My eyes looking wicked too |
| My throwback cost 400 |
| It’s from 1952! |
| And ya bitch, you! |
| (Bitch you!) |
| If you wanna leave this club |
| I suggest |
| You don’t come around here and try to beef with us |
| This for my niggas and guhls |
| Keep ya head up! |
| And I’mma keep my bread up |
| And make ya throw the set up! |
| I’m keepin' it gutta! |
| What you about robbing to eat |
| What you about peeping yo hood out |
| To see who want ya to cease |
| That’s the beginning |
| The ending, is 10 billion (10 billion) |
| Then I’m threw |
| Sign all my niggas deals so they can live, like Lil Boo |
| I was led on this path to hate |
| Since I was little |
| Across the street a ship plant |
| And next door a fuckin' killer |
| Calvin Ricks was the shit |
| It wasn’t no ridin' in South |
| I use to joy his purple jeep |
| When I walk in my house |
| And on my chedda chase |
| I done saw better days |
| Never thought my selfish ways |
| Have me blowing purple haze |
| It hurts to say (Hurts to say) |
| That my daddy left this world |
| I wish he could be here to see my pretty ass lil girl |
| But he can’t, so I drink |
| Get mad and I don’t think (Fuck it) |
| Smoke dro, by the ounce |
| And sip syrup, by the pint |
| Ain' too many can fuck with me |
| That’s on my generation |
| Shouts out to all my niggas |
| And my haters who be hatin', get ya hate on! |