| Gotti Beethoven, I play keys like a piano
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| I feel like Desiigner, I got hoes in Atlanta
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| They say I talk country, they can’t understand my grammar
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| Bitch I run the mob, I feel like Tony Soprano
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| Fuck your budget nigga, I just copped a phantom
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| Your shit soft, when it come on we change the channel
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| Dough boy all I talk about drugs
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| When I went platinum, send a plaque to my plug
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| I’m Gotti Beethoven, I play the keys
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| And owe everything I got to these streets
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| Gas stove, gas stove
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| I want a gas stove
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| I had 9 ounces in a Ajax box (In my grandma house)
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| This old money, I used to have a janky watch
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| This new shit, they don’t care if you fake or not
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| I’m savage, if I’m fucked up I’ll take your blocks
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| I’m anti-social so they say don’t social with me
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| I’m bout my bread and I’ma keep a toaster with me
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| I’ma keep this strapped, ain’t no holster with me
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| And I’ma keep it real how it’s supposed to be
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| I can’t let these bitches get too close to me (too close to me)
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| Never let no workers bring them folks to me
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| Fuck a model hood bitch, mine trophy piece
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| First rapper took that chopper with me overseas
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| Five million dollar cash the most I ever seen
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| Ten years ago but that most of these rappers' dreams
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| Never show emotion, never make a scene
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| Just pull up on 'em quietly, let them choppers sing
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| It’s breaking news with me every time I hit the scene
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| If we disputin' you know it’s shots, there ain’t no in between
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| Never lie to my niggas, sell these bitches dreams
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| Let 'em fly with my niggas, give them bitches wings
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| I always kept it real, no matter who in between
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| I take pride in being real, that shit run in my genes
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| Trap phone in my pocket, a gun in my jeans
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| Trap sun up and sun down and do it again
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| I’m Gotti Beethoven, I play the keys
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| And owe everything I got to these streets
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| Gas stove, gas stove
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| I want a gas stove
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| Question: Where would the game be without Zaytoven and Gangsta Grillz? |