Gutter Boyz

(feat. Sean T)

(We gangsta daddy!)

(Sean T)

Yuh!

I'm sippin on that 'notiq the color of Hulk man

And the blueberry smoke got a bitch twerkin

You niggas is perkin - so you doin it big?

You roll deep but when I see you it's just you and your kids

I roll sick, my rims feel like helicopter propellers

And my pockets run deep like a Mercer teller

Haters trip when they see the whip dippin by

The paint on it change like the I-95

I'm just Clyde, without the Bonnie, I got the hollowpoint

Heat for you niggas and the po' for the mamis

Sean Gotti, I'm puttin an end to camraderie

I'm lettin off heat, 'til them eyes get watery

Some gon' ricochet, some gon' hit, y'all gon' get 'em

Fluids gon' disperse out like refreshin club serum

I'm deadly as bite venom but I'm far from a snake

I'll hit you up on your birthday while you cuttin your cake

(Chorus: The Game)

We gangsters bitch; you see the cars, the whips

The chains, the bitches broads we with

We gangsters bitch; we'll come through your hood

A hundred deep and empty the whole clip

We gangsters bitch; we got guns for the beef

And my niggas'll put you under the street

We gangsters bitch; so you better watch what you say

'Fore I empty the whole glock in your face

(Sean T)

Streets is tough, but ain't no hopscotch lines on the ground

Just burner shells, and police siren sounds

Niggas know who I am in the town; it ain't a circus

But it might as well be, cause you know I'ma clown

I'm a terrain boss, I know most niggas envious dawg

And if a nigga owe me change you better give me it dawg

If you feelin like you wanna leap, make like a frog

You niggas lame, transparent like Wonder Woman's plane

I'm a stunna in this game, a federal figure

Blowin doj' in the hummer, 50 K on my fingers

I'm like a NASCAR winner poppin Mo' and Bill{?}

D-Squad don't give a **** about nobody else

I pull a {?} to contain your whole, clique for hours

The end result will probably be, pinewood and flowers

So I'll advise you deduct your QP's and powder

We gangsters and we jackin cowards (yup!)

(Chorus)

(Sean T)

S.T. nigga D-Squad, G.G.D

Don't get it twisted mother****er yeah we do creep

We ride out thug, **** we don't die

We lay low like mechanics tryin to fix up rides

A lot of cats say I'm sick in the head, when I anger it's on

Poodles gon' be up missin or dead

I chop haters up, like an old-ass sample

Or creep through your village, like Stallone in "Rambo"

I'm like piranhas on red meat, I'm on you niggas

You afros? Then I guess I got to comb you niggas

So break bread, when you see me dawg hit the flo'

I'm like a bitch off the X, unpredictable

Imitators always hollerin how gangsta they is

But got about as much courage as the Lion in "The Wiz"

**** I'm into pullin shanks on you fake Jake cats

Me and my burner hold it down man we go way back

(Chorus)