In this high-energy track, Key Glock showcases his luxurious lifestyle and success in the rap industry. The lyrics are a testament to his wealth, status, and confidence. He talks about wearing designer clothes from head to toe, being focused on making money, and not having any debts. He also mentions his aspirations for more wealth, like owning a Rolls Royce Wraith. Key Glock dismisses haters and emphasizes that he's above them. There are references to his romantic conquests as well as his prowess in the streets. Overall, it's a celebration of success achieved through hard work and dedication to one's craft while dismissing detractors who don't understand or appreciate his journey.
Gang Shit No Lame Shit
Lyrics
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(RamyOnTheBeat)
Soon as I walk through the door, uh (walk through the door)
Designer, it's head to toe, yeah
Young nigga all 'bout his dough, uh (yeah, yeah)
My nigga, come get your ho, yeah (bitch)
Paid cash, I don't have a note, uh (I don't have a note)
Hell yeah, I want me a Rolls Wraith
Spent twenty racks on my rose chain
These niggas hatin' is so lame
I'm ballin', need Rogaine
Hop out the drop, smokin' propane (yeah)
I do my damn thing
Boy, you ain't nothin' but a damn shame
Smashin' your bitch, yeah, your main thing
Come get your ho off my ding-a-ling
Poof on the bitch just like David Blane
Bullets hit runners, no shoe strings
I drip so much sauce, I done left a stain
You get the picture without the frame
I pull out the pistol, I bet that I bang
Play hot potato with his motherfuckin' brain
I shoot to kill so you know I got aim
You just a Shitzu and I'm a Great Dane
You know I get to the cream with my gang
We Paper Route, it is not Wu-Tang
Soon as I walk through the door, uh (bitch)
Designer, it's head to toe, yeah
Young nigga all 'bout his dough, uh (yeah, yeah)
My nigga, come get your ho, yeah (come get your bitch)
Paid cash, I don't have a note, uh (I don't have a note)
Hell yeah, I want me a Rolls Wraith
Spent twenty racks on my rose chain (rose gold)
These niggas hatin' is so lame
I hop in the foreign to change lanes (hop in the)
Young nigga fly as a damn plane (fly as a)
Walk in, the hoes go insane (yeah)
Ice on my Patek, my wrist sprained (ice)
I'm rich, bitch, Glock Rick James (I'm rich)
Cuttin' these checks like sensei (cut)
And that shit like every day (yeah)
If I ain't gettin' paid then I'm gettin' laid (yeah)
Yeah, head to toe, bitch
Writer(s): Markeyvius Cathey
Copyright(s): Lyrics © 713 MEDIA PUBLISHING, EMPIRE PUBLISHING
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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