Оригинален текст
Gonzoe (talking)
Uh-oh, (uh-oh) here it go again (here it go)
Oh fk! (oh s**t) s**t, shake that s**t b*tch
Huh, (yeah) yeah, it's me, Gonzoe
Came to rock you mother fkers right quick
You know what I'm sayin? Kick that thesoline
Know what I'm sayin
Verse 1 - Gonzoe
nigg*, I'm tryin to have it made
fkin with mink and suede
Hoppin out of jags on
When me s**t parfait
Like Livarache
Hoe, smell the heats of meakee
I'm too c*cky
My life's too rocky
So fk y'all
nigg* pi*sy off with me
You separate all
It means nothin
I talk your b*tch out the drawls
For the fk of it
And turp off bumpin
It's in the shed
Bounce to this
Cause you feelin it
Respect me killin it nigg*
I'mma be that rich cat
Tell them where I hold my chips and whips at
I'm a young nigg* never found guilty
Clean as fk but still filthy
Workers on the corners tryin to milk me
For knowledge
Like 'd*mn! you smashin in college?'
Big as* glots and keepin dollars
Don't bother choppin work no more
I hit the liquor store
Relax with a glass of conyac and smoke
nigg*
Chorus - Gonzoe
I got it made! (got it made)
fkin with mink and suede (mink and suede)
All my pieces par made
b*tch, I'm doin this s**t my way (my way)
b*tch, all us we got it made
I'm paid, fkin with mink and suede
Hoppin out of jags on (us)
When me s**t bumpay
Like liverache
Hoe, smell the heats of meakee (hoe)
I'm too c*cky
My ice too rocky
So fk y'all
Verse 2 - Gonzoe
Uh, it's too much money to me
Y'all is actin fake
Playa-hatin, talkin up on my s**t like Ricki Lake
Comin chili's for hoes
Why you lyin bout who you know?
Stay broke, never got no ervails on the smoke, lock the timmy
Foo, you killin me, actin phony
Sittin on your cake with a round of homies, you're pretty tony
Gettin worked, cochberts, Versace, Domeinberg
What you bought is what she wear when she go do dirt
The truth hurt
All the same
With no backs to claim
But you slept because it was all part of the game
Chorus
Verse 3 - Gonzoe
Yeah, y'all can't touch me
I'm spotless, you dusty
My pistol crusty
All the I wet
They all trust me
Till the federals bust me
Out for the dusty
Gangsta like Bugsy
Livin lavish up in luxury
The Bombay, Mr.Icicle
Come sw*llow the pickle
Us dons all stressed and rippled
It ain't a thing
Tryin to find this game man
Stack up for the drought
Cause one day it's gonna rain
In big drops
Cop, blind side of my Cyclops
As it bubble, I watch the pattern transform
To rocks nigg*, going to glocks, money in stacks
Cause he got this, and I got that (what)