[Intro]
(Uh, oh)
Aye, you know I'm cocaine-crazy right?
(Looks like a blowout)
These n***as go white this, white that
Quit fucking with me (White everything)
Aye li'l bitch I fuck with talk 'bout she want white cat
You know this my city n***a! (Ho, you crazy)
Pussy ass n***a
(Cocaine 4)

[Hook]
I got bass in the trunk, highs on the inside
Marshmallow paint, 49er's on the inside
Touchdown, a n***a going long
Field goal, extra point a n***a going strong
210 on the dash, blue jean inside
White wit' blue top, like the Yankees when I come past
Home run, that boy out the park
Bases loaded, world series, that boy hustle smart

[Verse 1]
Streets talking, Gotti been doing good
N***as wanna try em, couple n***as from the hood
You know how that go, n***as say you don't fuck with 'em
Truth be told when I was hustlin' I ain't fuck with 'em (Fuck 'em)
Same n***a still owe me on a pack
Think a n***a forgot because I'm rappin'? (Nah)
When I get off the road, I shoot back to my town
New whips, new watch, fuck with me, it's going down
Own family hating, n***as looking mad
Guess it be little better if a n***a was doing bad
But momma got a smile
Brother still wild
I gotta get this money, I just had another child
They say I'm getting fat, guess I'm eating good
20 racks in the motor, got my name under the hood, (Yo Gotti),
Sometimes I think back, I could've went fed
This a chance in a lifetime, I gotta think ahead
[Hook]
I got bass in the trunk, highs on the inside
Marshmallow paint, 49ers on the inside
Touchdown, a n***a going long
Field goal, extra point a n***a going strong
210 on the dash, Blue jean inside
White wit blue top, like the Yankees when I come past
Home run, that boy out the park
Bases loaded, world series, that boy hustle smart

[Verse 2]
My city rooting for me, the club owners mad
'Cause I won't come to kick it for under twenty-five bands
And you taking it personal I'm just tryna feed my man's
See you ain't a real n***a so that's something you wouldn't understand
But if it weren't for my homeboys and if it weren't for my fans
I would've been clicked on you bitches
Doing a quarter off in the can
But I'ma keep on grinding and keep on shining
'Cause that's what you can't stand
And I'ma kill you bitches softly every time I ride pass
What the fuck make you wanna compete with me?
Like you street as me
Running 'round here talking down
Bitch, you ain't use to be with me
Bitch, you ain't use to tote heat with me
Bitch, you ain't use to eat with me
Bitch I was thuggin' in Ridgecrest
Yo funky ass was somewhere down the street
Yo fuck ass ain't no real G
Tell me where they do that at
Gang bang in yo neighborhood
But 'round me wouldn't even throw up your set
Motherfuckers do anything for a check, okay, that's cool
But don't fuck around and let Project Pat or Juicy J get your ass wet
On another note, I'm the same n***a wit' mo' paper and more bigger
And whenever I'm in town, bitch, I'm right here on Shady Vista
My jewelry on, and my car parked, my shirt off with no pistol
Ain't none, n***a gon' take nothin'
My li'l n***as a shake some
My li'l n***as got mo' paper, my li'l n***as don't even rap
Runnin' 'round talk 'bout you got signed
Bitch, you still living in the trap
[Hook]
I got bass in the trunk, highs on the inside
Marshmallow paint, 49er's on the inside
Touchdown, a n***a going long
Field goal, extra point a n***a going strong
210 on the dash, blue jean inside
White wit blue top, like the Yankees when I come past
Home run, that boy out the park
Bases loaded, world series, that boy hustle smart