You cannot copy content of this page
Skip to content

Lil Gotit – Instead Lyrics

Instead Lyrics By Lil Gotit


(Ayy, I get bread
10Fifty, I love you
Hood talk)

This bread, ayy, you know I’m gon’ get that
The head, bae, you know I’m addicted to s--
The a--, sheesh, been f-----’ with the best
My gas rank, ain’t talkin’ ’bout no a--
Penthouse ain’t got no maid
I’m guessin’ you’s inbred
My shooter don’t f--- with feds
They let me out the gate
I think I’m in love with Amiri
He think I’m talkin’ ’bout a b----
I don’t think she heard me clearly
Talkin’ ’bout these racks and skinnies

Bring out some racks to get her out my face
She ain’t store her n---- safe, I’m the reason she all bright today
Broad day out, where your Cartier?
He think it’s numb, it’s holdin’ weight
But that’s the thing, he ringin’ the bro
Skeet, diss, and wish him well
Pull up on his a--, droppin’ shells
All that envy don’t look good, cut that out
Tired of waitin’ for a handout, boy, you burnin’ out (Better go get it)
Keep them folks up out your business, close your mouth (That’s law)
You can’t get money in one spot, you gotta go out

This bread, ayy, you know I’m gon’ get that
The head, bae, you know I’m addicted to s--
The a--, sheesh, been f-----’ with the best
My gas rank, ain’t talkin’ ’bout no a--
Penthouse ain’t got no maid
I’m guessin’ you’s inbred
My shooter don’t f--- with feds
They let me out the gate
I think I’m in love with Amiri
He think I’m talkin’ ’bout a b----
I don’t think she heard me clearly
Talkin’ ’bout these racks and skinnies

Everybody tryna act like they know me
I wasn’t gon’ be s---, what my teacher told me
Got off my a-- and got a bag, yeah, I showed them
Went through so much pain, wiped it off my shoulders (Let’s go)
Spent my first thousand on Gucci shoes, I love drip (Gucci)
Reminiscing ’bout myself, ain’t no love here (Listen)
B----, you dig what I’m sayin’ with the biggest shovel
Glock .40 hold a monkey for my rivals

This bread, ayy, you know I’m gon’ get that
The head, bae, you know I’m addicted to s--
The a--, sheesh, been f-----’ with the best
My gas rank, ain’t talkin’ ’bout no a--
Penthouse ain’t got no maid
I’m guessin’ you’s inbred
My shooter don’t f--- with feds
They let me out the gate
I think I’m in love with Amiri
He think I’m talkin’ ’bout a b----
I don’t think she heard me clearly
Talkin’ ’bout these racks and skinnies