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