Текст песни What It Is - Kevin Gates

What It Is

Best friends benefit like ginger, casino to gutter
We blow dinero, Pacino this summer
He smoking a blunt of that green, cuffs in the onion
We spinning the tunnel with beats, hustle the jungle
My seats been absent from a week, you been trapping
At least we know the antics on the recent happens
Rapping, steady grabbing me, shackle me to the booth
Passionately example, dramatic, nigga, I'm the truth
That's when me and you was family, scrambling in the room
That's when me and you was family, scrambling in the room
That's when anything he handling, handle it with the tool
That was you, it was cars, it was money, it was nuts
It was me, when they fall, I was there to pick 'em up
That was me, it was clips, it was guns, it was blood
It was love, it was hate, it was God, it was trust
It was guts, it was pressure, it was everything I touched
Dead gang mean loyalty, nothing over us

Every night I go to sleep, wrestling with the feeling
Praying the Lord forgive me for my negative decisions
In the end when I die, still look into the sky
Be the realist shit I ever mentioned

I'm so sick of this rap shit, everybody rap shit
Old lady baby mamas with that talking back shit
Jeezy got, everybody cooking crack shit
No, I didn't, goddamn well, I don't know what crack is
I don't know 'bout you niggas, I grew up on the crack strip (Crack strip)
Gates got it in the south, got it on the back strip (In the back)
Pots and the soda, tryna make the yola backflip
Play with my lil' BG's, and they gon' let the cat back in
Me, I'm on my black shit, look like the blast shit
Grab you by your collar on some put you in a bag shit (Get over here)
Gotta be easy, stressing get hard
Pray to go to prison and get blessed with a charge (Thank you)
Nigga disrespect, sit him next to the Lord (For real)
Me and money go together like sex in a car
I said a nigga disrespect, sit him next to the Lord
Me and money go together like sex in a car

Every night I go to sleep, wrestling with the feeling
Praying the Lord forgive me for my negative decisions
In the end when I die, still look into the sky
Be the realist shit I ever mentioned

Got a phobia of never getting out, stick a missile in your mouth
Bargain like a carpenter with entering your house
Needing assistance, Gates get a jerk murder
Contract, I get paid to pay dirty workers
Bang the AK, fifty lay a fake splat
Paid a tax on they private in a section 8
That busy building a dream, Infinit's for the queen
My girlfriend get furniture, bathroom blushed out
Hoes get pissed on, my stripper get cussed out
Eight dollar cab fare, show 'em what a bus 'bout
Rather be alone, emotion willing to turn
Fall to cut me and it hurt, feel like a cigarette burn
Gates getting rich rap or forever the dope
And it's better than that other shit they sell in the store
I got Promethazine capsule, Lortab tablet
Mixed and crushed up in my pineapple

Every night I go to sleep, wrestling with the feeling
Praying the Lord forgive me for my negative decisions
In the end when I die, still look into the sky
Be the realist shit I ever mentioned
Every night I go to sleep, wrestling with the feeling
Praying the Lord forgive me for my negative decisions
In the end when I die, still look into the sky
Be the realist shit I ever mentioned