Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gotta Luv It, artist - Nas. Album song In My Ghetto, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 20.11.2017
Record label: Famous
Song language: English
Gotta Luv It |
Flow when I’m set, I got the chips to make a Lotus my whip |
Gold on my neck was once a code of respect |
For high rollers and vets |
Now it’s loads of baguettes |
Prefer a Mac-10 over a Tec |
No matter sober or wet, I smack soldier cadets |
Trees that might eject my hype back |
Famous phrase «Nigga, light that» |
Hoes you fuck ask you: 'Where your ice at, dunn?' |
It’s all about Playboys when we was young |
Could only get tongue, then finally we could cum |
Busting in hoes, guzzling 4's |
Crack blitz, '86, you turn hustling pro |
From bottles, to seven in your hand |
To fake Pepsi’s, to get to the crack, unscrew the can |
Gleam blunted, seeing 100's, stacks of boy with a lean on it |
We got it if the fiends want it |
The whole block singing the same theme «Don it» |
Fuck it, too many crabs in the bucket |
If it’s ice work, I’m gon' truck it |
You gotta love it, you gotta love it |
(It's what they want) Fuck it, you gotta love it |
(It's what they want, huh? It’s what they want) |
Fuck it, you gotta love it |
(It's what they want, huh?) Fuck it, you gotta love it |
Some girls get too emotional, fanatic extremist |
Compulsive, with malice incentives, the foulest of bitches |
Hunger my riches, her childish wishes |
Be suspicious of those sleeping with fishes, them hoes |
Conspicuous and it shows, tricking this dough |
Kicking this flow, slip and you fold |
So when your clique roll, I let my clips go |
Niggas on opposite poles |
I got that confident soul, for those locked in a hole |
Inhumane, living hostile opposed |
To living on the street, proper from my top to my toes |
Aeropostale my clothes, Vernon niggas in Suburbans with liquor |
Preposterous foes, finicky foul niggas |
See niggas and blacks, there goes a loud difference |
Coke sniffing, tapping 13-year-old chickens |
You can’t be a kingpin when you snitching |
Regardless, we still make you a target |
We shoot you in jail, chrome objects |
Hit you in your own projects, it’s street-onomics |
This rhyme is edited, credited through ebonics |
Miserable cats, hunger paining |
Get off your ass, stop complaining |
My crew be in Montego Bay Macarena-ing |
Marinating, while you home, waiting your arraignment |
This thug life you claimed it, I make millions from entertainment |
Now back in the hood, certain cats, they wanna kill me |
They ice grill me, but on the low, niggas feel me |
You gotta love it |
Fuck it, you gotta love it (It's what they want, huh?) |
Fuck it, you gotta love it (It's what they want) |
Fuck it, you gotta love it (It's what they want, huh?) |
(It's what they want… it's what they want) |