Correction Lyrics Ima Show You by Yo Gotti

Featuring(s) : Kodak Black

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Lyrics

[Intro: Kodak Black]
Yeah, nigga, just talk for one man on the hook
Bitch you gotta welcome me home
Real gleeful, real seaful shit
It's a glizzy at yo' ass, man

[Chorus: Kodak Black]
When I stepped up out the can, I was in all Fendi
I done traded in the Benz for a new Bentley
I need two hundred bands, nigga, all twenty
I'ma show you how to geek in the booth
I'ma show you how to geek in the coupe
Girl, you know you wanna freak with me too
I'ma show you how to sneak from your dude, baby
I'ma show you how to creep on your boo

[Verse 1: Yo Gotti]
Let me show you how to turn your sad face to a smile
Let me show you how a real nigga really hold you down
Got to move to the next, 'cause you ex was a fuck nigga
I don't got to tell you, baby girl, you know what's up with him
I can buy you rolls, nah, I buy you a Rolls-Royce (Phantoms)
I am not a trick but I feel you deserve one
I'm Big Gotti, I ain't fuckin' with you lil' bitches (I ain't fuckin' with you)
I'm Big Gotti, I got niggas in the penitentiary (My niggas)
I send them kites and I write 'em, I was there when they indict 'em
Even 'fore he wanted to fight 'em, that's my nigga, I'm just like him (Yeah)
Welcome home, celebrations, here's a bag, no hesitation
You stood on the situation, 'cause we both knew what we was facin'

[Chorus: Kodak Black & Yo Gotti]
When I stepped up out the can, I was in all Fendi
I done traded in the Benz for a new Bentley (Skrrt)
I need two hundred bands, nigga, all twenty (All twenty)
I'ma show you how to geek in the booth (In the booth)
I'ma show you how to geek in the coupe (In the coupe)
Girl, you know you wanna freak with me too
I'ma show you how to sneak from your dude, baby (How to do it)
I'ma show you how to creep on your boo (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

[Verse 2: Yo Gotti]
I just traded in the 'Presi for the Richard
I just text my ex bitch, "I still love you but I won't miss you" (Bitch I'm older)
Got a normal street nigga, if I kiss you, you the one
They say I'm trippin'
Fifty-million dollar nigga totin' guns
I got mental issues
Yeah, I thought the street shit was fun (Crazy)
R.I.P to MO3 and R.I.P to Von (God bless)
I ain't rapped in six months, but I didn't touch a pack
I just bought a condo in Miami, shoutout to Ye
It's the Rolls, it's the Lamborghini doors, for me
Your bitch spoiled, she ain't loyal, and it shows, to me
It just holds, to me
Boy, I'm trappin' out Dior, it ain't the clothes for me (It's the paper)

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