Gonzoe - Got It Made Lyrics
[gonzoe] (talking)Uh-oh, (uh-oh) here it go again (here it go)Oh *****! (oh shit) shit, shake that shit *****Huh, (yeah) yeah, its me, gonzoeCame to rock you mother *****ers right quickYou know what Im sayin? kick that thesolineKnow what Im sayin[verse 1 - gonzoe]Nigga, Im tryin to have it made*****in with mink and suedeHoppin out of jags on niggazWhen me shit parfaitLike livaracheHoe, smell the heats of meakeeIm too *****yMy lifes too rockySo ***** yallNigga pissy off with meYou separate allIt means nothinI talk your ***** out the drawlsFor the ***** of itAnd turp off bumpinIts in the shedBounce to thisCause you feelin itRespect me killin it niggaImma be that rich catTell them niggaz where I hold my chips and whips atIm a young nigga never found guiltyClean as ***** but still filthyWorkers on the corners tryin to milk meFor knowledgeLike damn! you smashin in college?Big ass glots and keepin dollarsDont bother choppin work no moreI hit the liquor storeRelax with a glass of conyac and smokeNigga[chorus - gonzoe]I got it made! (got it made)*****in with mink and suede (mink and suede)All my pieces par made*****, Im doin this shit my way (my way)*****, all us niggaz we got it madeIm paid, *****in with mink and suedeHoppin out of jags on niggaz (us)When me shit bumpayLike liveracheHoe, smell the heats of meakee (hoe)Im too *****yMy ice too rockySo ***** yall[verse 2 - gonzoe]Uh, its too much money to meYall niggaz is actin fakePlaya-hatin, talkin up on my shit like ricki lakeComin chilis for hoesWhy you lyin bout who you know?Stay broke, never got no ervails on the smoke, lock the timmyFoo, you killin me, actin phonySittin on your cake with a round of homies, youre pretty tonyGettin worked, cochberts, versace, domeinbergWhat you bought is what she wear when she go do dirtThe truth hurtAll the sameWith no backs to claimBut you slept because it was all part of the gameChorus[verse 3 - gonzoe]Yeah, yall niggaz cant touch meIm spotless, you dustyMy pistol crustyAll the niggaz I wetThey all trust meTill the federals bust meOut for the dustyGangsta like bugsyLivin lavish up in luxuryThe bombay, mr.icicleCome swallow the pickleUs dons all stressed and rippledIt aint a thingTryin to find this game manStack up for the droughtCause one day its gonna rainIn big dropsCop, blind side of my cyclopsAs it bubble, I watch the pattern transformTo rocks nigga, going to glocks, money in stacksCause he got this, and I got that (what)
