More songs by Kevin Gates
Description
It sounds like a diary written not with a pen, but with caps lock and profanity. Raw emotions without filters - from longing for children to anger at those who betrayed him. Everything is mixed together here: love and hate, tenderness and rage, memories and stubborn defiance.
The beat is steady and heavy, like the footsteps of a person who doesn't stumble even on broken glass. The voice conveys both fatigue and steel: you can swear, you can lose your train of thought, but the main thing is to stand your ground and hold your own. The result is a strange cocktail: a cry of pain mixed with pride and loyalty to one's own.
Lyrics and translation
Original
If you really gettin' it how you say, then hold your watches up
If I let 'em live, I'm back to gettin' it in, them niggas time up
They ain't gotta aks me what it is, I throw mine up
Lil' fine shit, ain't got no time to talk, lil' bitch, I'm tryna fuck
Judge, fuck him, DA, fuck him
Free the real out the pen', I miss 'em, I love 'em
Hos, fuck 'em, niggas, fuck 'em
If they ever violated, fuck 'em, let they mama love 'em
My team winnin', my teeth hittin'
Recovered off a fumble, then I ran it up in minutes
Hos, fuck 'em, niggas, fuck 'em
Hold it down for my kids, I miss 'em, I love 'em
Ay, who the fuck is you? Yeen standin' like I'm standin'
You ain't gangsta like I'm gangsta, 'pplyin' pressure, you ain't no Phantom (at all)
Yeen got stripes, yeen no tiger, concrete jungle, yeen no animal
Yeen swaggin' like I'm swaggin', huh, Louis bandana
Tied around my neck, the belt to match, Gucci bandana
Trappin' a Jim Jones, Killer Kam, Juelz Santana
You ain't New Orleans to Baton Rouge, still in the trenches controllin' traffic (huh?)
You don't pull up and hop out solo, you ain't Mr. Louisiana
Ay, wassam? Bitch, I'm outchea, I'm Mr. Louisiana (for real)
Ooh, lost my train of thought, I ball back up on a addy (pour one up)
I took a good girl, I hit from the back, she want me to be her daddy (ooh-ooh)
Breadwinner be on the hat with the strap, it's cute when I turn it backwards, ooh (ooh)
Judge, fuck him, DA, fuck him
Free the real out the pen', I miss 'em, I love 'em
Hos, fuck 'em, niggas, fuck 'em
If they ever violated, fuck 'em, let they mama love 'em
My team winnin', my teeth hittin'
Recovered off a fumble, then I ran it up in minutes
Hos, fuck 'em, niggas, fuck 'em
Hold it down for my kids, I miss 'em, I love 'em
On the internet tryna build it, actin' like they don't fuck with us (why, huh?)
Heat the city up (why, huh?) bitch, you know what up (why?)
Gettin' the strip and gettin' it born (huh?), I'm 'bout to heat this bitch back up (what up?)
And who started sayin' I'm him? Could you remind this bitch, again? (I'm him)
Kodak, on that broccoli, I'm a healthy kid (I did)
Who gon' act like they ain't catch it? Huh, rewind this bitch, again (for real)
You ain't invisible hand sense, sprint to the back, Mariah Carey (ooh)
Mouth a movie, Brasi platinum, pop out, e'rybody starin' (they is)
Bunk beds, diamonds cross the T-O-P and bottom bracket (bling, blaow)
Went and saw Kevin Sands, I coulda bought a Phantom
My new bitch super bad and we be turnin' heads in traffic (straight up)
Judge, fuck him, DA, fuck him
Free the real out the pen', I miss 'em, I love 'em
Hos, fuck 'em, niggas, fuck 'em
If they ever violated, fuck 'em, let they mama love 'em
My team winnin', my teeth hittin'
Recovered off a fumble, then I ran it up in minutes
Hos, fuck 'em, niggas, fuck 'em
Hold it down for my kids, I miss 'em, I love 'em