Letra Ima show you Yo Gotti

Ima show you

Yeah nigga, just talk for one man on the hook
Bitch you gotta walk me home
Real gleeful, real seaful shit
It's a glizzy at yo' ass, man

When I stepped up out the can, I was in all Fendi
And I traded in the Benz for a new Bently
I need two hundred bands nigga, all twenty
I'ma show you how to geek in the booth
I'ma show you how to geek in the coupe
Girl, you know you wanna freak with me to
I'ma show you how to sneak from your dude, baby
I'ma show you how to creep on boo

Let me show you how to turn your sad face to a smile
Let me show you how a real nigga really hold you down
Got to move to the next, 'cause you ex was a fuck nigga
I don't got to tell you, baby girl you know what's up with him
I can buy you rolls, nah, I buy you a Rolls Royce
I am not a trick but I feel you deserve one
I'm Big Gotti, I ain't fuckin' with you lil' bitches
I'm Big Gotti, I got nigga in the penitentiary
I send them kites and I write 'em
I was there when they indict 'em
Even 'fore he wanted to fight 'em
That's my nigga, I'm just like him
Welcome home, celebrations
Here's a [?], here's a [?]
You stood on the situation
'Cause we both knew what we was facin'

When I stepped up out the can, I was in all Fendi
And I traded in the Benz for a new Bently (Skrrt)
I need two hundred bands nigga, all twenty (All twenty)
I'ma show you how to geek in the booth (In the booth)
I'ma show you how to geek in the coupe (In the coupe)
Girl, you know you wanna freak with me to
I'ma show you how to sneak from your dude, baby (How to do it)
I'ma show you how to creep on your boo (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

I just traded in the 'Presi for the Richard
I just text my ex bitch, "I still love you but I won't miss you" (Bitch I'm older)
Got a normal street nigga, if I kiss you, you the one
They say I'm trippin'
Fifty-million dollar nigga totin' guns
I got mental issues
Yeah, I thought the street shit was fun (Crazy)
R.I.P to Moe 3 and R.I.P to Von (God bless)
I ain't rapped in six months, but I didn't touch a pack
I just bought a condo in Miami, shoutout to Ye
It's the Rolls, it's the Lamborghini doors, for me
Your bitch spoiled, she ain't loyal, and it shows, to me
It just holds, to me
Boy, I'm trappin' out Dior, it ain't the clothes for me (It's the paper)

When I stepped up out the can, I was in all Fendi
And I traded in the Benz for a new Bently
I need two hundred bands nigga, all twenty
I'ma show you how to geek in the booth
I'ma show you how to geek in the coupe
Girl, you know you wanna freak with me to
I'ma show you how to sneak from your dude, baby
I'ma show you how to creep on boo