Fa Fa Fa

作词 : Mario Mims/George Stone III/John Carlos Ramirez/Max Jacobsson/Randy Razz II

作曲 : Mario Mims/George Stone III/John Carlos Ramirez/Max Jacobsson/Randy Razz II

(Ayy, who that? John Gotitt)

Trap be still doing numbers

Big Gotti still got runners

Twenty years straight, no fumbles

Wildlife, nigga, from the jungle

Nigga too small to be cocky (Look)

And I'm too big to be humble

Yeah, I was okay, rich under thunder

Too much, can't tuck it, I'm punchin' (On go)

I ain't get no game from my uncles (Uh-uh)

So I ain't show 'em no love on the numbers

**** 'em, shit, they hated my pops

Fake like it's love 'cause I'm up, but it's not

First in the city put switch on a Glock

First nigga paid five figures a drop

Keep a good grip when you hittin', it's hot

Put one on top and then hop out the car with that—

Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa

Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa

When the twin flames jump at that car (Flat)

I'll make a nigga call for Allah (On God)

I'm a trap nigga, babe, I'm a star (I am)

When I say go bar for bar (Sticks)

That's a hundred thousand Xanax bars (Bars)

Now I could buy it on a Amex card (Swipe)

Ain't no receipt on a pack, nigga (Pack)

Ain't no bringin' this shit back, nigga (Back)

**** around and get flapped, nigga (Flapped)

Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa

Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa

I got these sticks in the rental

This b***h in the car and she too sentimental

I got my dawg in my car and he **** with the opps, he play in the middle

Oh, he thinkin' he Slime, I'm three steps ahead, he don't even know it

I told him, "I need some gas," I get out and pump it, they pull up, and blow it (Frrah)

I was chilling in Turks, my nigga on Percs, he talkin' 'bout killin' (Killin')

I'm tryna exit the streets, this shit got a ceilin', I'm thinking 'bout billions ('Bout billions)

I just talked to Drew Findling, they finna free Doggy, you don't know the feelin'

Yeah, you don't know the feelin', they lock up ya partner, y'all runnin' up millions (Damn)

Yeah, I just jumped off a island, I'm back on a tour

Jump off the tour and I'm back in the trap

Jumped out the trap and go up to the office

Put down the strap, go through some offers

Pick up my strap, and I'm back at the door (Yeah)

Phone on private, ain't dropping my lo' (My lo')

Callin' the label, they late on our paper

We treatin' this shit like we still sellin' dope

Brand new Ferrari, I ordered it (Skrrt)

Asian masseuse, imported it ('Ported it)

I'm on the side my niggas on, so if they get on yo' ass, I'm supportin' it

I'm too big for the bullshit, I already know it (I know it)

I know better, but I ignore it

I'm not a rapper I'm a poet

(What am I?) Street nigga, drug lord (Gotti)

Let the beat breathe

Ayy, let the beat breathe on these p***ies

Just vibe out, flex, know what I'm sayin'?

First hundred K, I remember (Frrt)

First seven figures, I remember (Frrt)

First AK, I remember (Fah)

It was cold day in December

First nigga felt that— (Uh), first nigga felt that fire

First nigga

First niggas y'all let die (P***ies)