Yo Gotti - Buy Out Lyrics

A hundred miles and running, niggas going at the end of me
Niggas switching sides, give me nothing like it's the end of me.
Niggas having family, but I know these niggas into me.
Pown me, thug it to the motherf*cker sin is me.
I'm a train the topic time down, bitch, I'm riding in a 'rarri.
If you don't like me, than I'm sorry.
I ain't og, I'm just being me, f*cking pretty clear.
I rap about this shit, 'cause I did it.
Life don't change, neither do the game,
Niggas getting money, but the rules stay the same.
Who I'm gonna sound with, who I wanna ground with?
That's my only question, nigga, see 'em G I'm down with.
Cocaine mirrors, cold money guns, every nigga I f*ck with with the g I make them bun,
So I never leave the house without my chain on my gut,
Got on my old boy Gucci so I fresh pearl once.

See, nigga, see, I feel like I wanna release, nigga,
I got to face earth, you know what I mean?
And then I got nothing to do and get no money
And that, nigga, that be a hundred.
That be a hundred with yourself, that be a hundred with the niggas,
A hundred with you, you know what I mean?
Man, I got a lot of young nigga around me, nigga,
And that's straight of low life family, nigga, could kill for each other,
That thing is real.

Murder was the case, nigga, jump a hoardal with a race nigga, down
Then I put it in your face, to the face, on my case, nigga,
Told my lawyer go to trial, I'm doing it big in the meanwhile.
If I lose, place a riot for me, if I die don't stay fire for me,
Pour on some liquor and get higher for me,
I'm doing this thing for my home boys,
I have it, oh, lord, so surely can avoid.
I came here speaking from my heart for some time around
Am I a real rapper or just a nigga on lands?
I don't know, I'm confused, do I suppose to be rich?
You know that hoe ain't your hoe, she's your supposed to be bitch.
No supposed to be clip, I want no allias,
You see 'em G, homie and we don't franchise.
I get green gas off the whipe ass, don't get in that pot
And he get bout time.
Hallelujah, bless my shooters, serve my jazle, watch him hit that shooter.
F*ck that rap shit, I don't fit in,
How they f*ck boys, how they fake friends.
Streets on fire, plug on gold mode, streets so damn dry, I might get a truck load.
F*ck your country, I won't sign it, labels keep calling me, but I don't call back.