Letra White sheets [feat. yo gotti & waka flocka] Tony Yayo

White sheets [feat. yo gotti & waka flocka]

[Intro: Tony Yayo]
I bust your head to the white meat, white meat
Spray the k you see them white sheets, white sheets
Fuck you if you don't like me, like me
We don't take this beef lightly, lightly

[Chorus: Tony Yayo]
Throw it up, represent
Guzzle bottle after bottle till your bent
I'm in the lam, borghini
And I don't give a fuck if you don't like me
I bust your head to the white meat, white meat
Spray the k you see them white sheets, white sheets
Fuck you if you don't like me, like me
We don't take this beef lightly, lightly

[Tony Yayo:]
4-10 revolver, shotgun fire
I'm a bring new york back like scott amayer
458 ferrari styling
I'm black in it so police racial profiling
El chapo, import export
I bought my first aiflestein I felt like a boss
Sak passe, my neck all rocky
Cooling aging on my wrists so freaks leave the party
Rap critics fuck up my high everyday
I'm making movies in the morning matinee
I gave the haze up, now I'm rolling dour blunts
With a model with some seline d cups
Blame it on me, not your baby momma
Cum in her extensions in the coupe extension on the llama
Everyday is drama, around the clock
I put that twerk and park the car right around the block

[Chorus]

[Yo Gotti:]
I'm a real nigaa, and I always been
Feeling but a brick spending by the 10's
Chopper on my hummer, leave a pussy leaked
Fishscale and whyola got the hood tweaked
Put the llama beep, all I ever need
Addict full of snow truck load full of weed
In emergency goons working overtime
So in otherwords ya fuck with me then you know your dying
Whole faminly crying, whole city sad
Never will forget him, but they will miss his ass
Breaking nooses in, shoot em on the run
I never make a statement, I never leave my gun
Not living where I'm from, not living where I hum
Them young niggaz and old niggaz
Got pistols called super doke
Air filting super gun, murder rate done got super dope
And I go hard in every city to represent where I'm from

[Chorus]

[Waka Flocka Flame:]
Throw your sets up, what hood ya from
Pour dark 60 deep in the tour bus
You a blodd, you a crip, you a fool
You a lord, you sell weed, you sell coke
I'm tryna find an hoe in here
Have her on some weed and a cold beer
Beat a nigga ass who wanna volunteer
Fore heads seems a had a good year
Black and yellow rari, mid man took off the tape
All this ice on me my nigga this is what it cost to hate
Throy ya hood up
Throw ya hood up
Where ya from, put ya bottles and your cups up
Bread squad monopoly, ain't no stoppin me
Bitches jockin me ballin with no referee
It's a guarentee you fuck with me your a dead man
Bread squad monoply we don't gangland

[Chorus]