Bad Behavior - Yo Gotti

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

(Traxamillion)

Yeah

Wait a minute wait a minute

Last time I checked, I had a half a hundred million

Know a Memphis nigga out in Beverly Hills

I been by publishing and selling pills

Big dog status, watch with no stones

Niggas buy Dior I be buyin' homes

Somebody tell my ex to leave me alone

No hard feelings got a better bitch, I’m moving on

I be spending dope, shootin' every song

If I get indicted off these lyrics, say it’s gon' be-long, uh

You a rat, you know you dead wrong, uh

No collect calls, we do iPhones

All my niggas locked up they got iPhones

And I cleared the bank to bring my niggas home, yeah

Start over yeah, yeah, start over

Seven loud, yeah, yeah, strong odor

Twenty thousand square feet, I don’t call it home

Walkin' 'round this bitch, I feel so alone

Text’s to my son, ask him when he comin'

Give him a hundred k like, «Give it to your mommy»

Just because yeah, yeah, just because

I remember the struggle, it ain’t none but love

Bad memories, but can’t forget the opps

I invest in pills, bricks, and weed 'fore I invest in stocks

Paper-heavy, paper-heavy

Get this money, take shit from nobody how they raise you?

Mama made me savage, grandma took my filter early

Thirteen out the service, AMG all on my dresser

When they hang up my jersey that’s a 36

I could hang up my jersey, I sold a thousand bricks

They can flame up my jersey, I blew a hundred sticks

I can retro my jersey, I been doin' this shit

Couple niggas try, couple don’t survive

Championship rings, one to all the guys

You fucked up then she fucked up, why you act surprised?

You don’t own the pussy, guess you can’t accept the fact she lied

Paper-heavy, paper-heavy

Mama was a ho, I guess that’s how a mama raised him

Daddy was a pussy nigga so I guess she fucked with suckers

All she know was lame ass niggas, look at her brother

Gotti, where you been, where you been?

I been out the scene countin' millions by the teens

I been on vacation chillin', fuckin' bitches friends

I been kinda silent, still slidin' gettin' revenge

Paper-heavy, paper-heavy

Get this money, take shit from nobody how they raise you?

Mama made me savage, grandma took my filter early

Thirteen out the service, AMG all on my dresser

When they hang up my jersey that’s a 36

I could hang up my jersey, I sold a thousand bricks

They can flame up my jersey, I blew a hundred sticks

I’m the streets MVP, it don’t get real as this