Ain’t Gotta Lie Lyrics - Tee Grizzley & Skilla Baby
(It’s a Wayne beat)
(His name’s Pablo)
Ain’t gotta lie to these ***, they already wanna ***
Ain’t gotta lie to these niggas, they *** lie to them enough
Better not play if you thirsty, *** be linin’ niggas up
Glock’ll give you lip injections, this a Kylie Jenner ***, wait
Should I do the rose Patek skelly or the Rollie?
This the type of *** I used to dream about in Cody
I’m the type of *** duck the feds if they on me
You the type of *** duck a *** if you owe him
Two M’s in jewelry every time I link with Skilla
Get a *** fried, I’m the stove, Doc the skillet
We be overbuyin’, we got more guns than killers
Should I buy two hundred choppers or a Richard Millie?
Don’t bet with them niggas if they against us, they gon’ fail you
Ask them niggas what’s the score, I bet they ain’t gon’ tell you
Gray and blue Track’ look like an Oakland county jail suit
Better not raise your voice at Mari Red, that boy’ll nail you
Ain’t gotta lie to a ***, if I’ma *** him, I’ma *** him
In the rental on the road with more dog than a kennel
R.I.P. my pops, he would’ve put your pops in the ‘spital
Niggas rats, when they get jammed, they talk, Stuart Little
Catch a snitch walkin’ out of court and shoot off the dribble
Niggas only shooters when they on the ‘net, Kerry Kittle
Heard his life leave, I knew he was dead when I hit him
Told the *** fiends sign to Roc Nation, I’m Jigga
Should I play the 580, Urus, or the Track’?
If you wanna sign to me or Tee, catch a hat
Spinnin’ in the Track’, no cap, killers in the back
These ain’t regular handguns, I put switches on the back
Wilt Chamberlain in the whip, left a hundred on that one block
The handgun Glock, when I slid, I had to come chop
Bro locked up, he couldn’t come shank, had to come lock
You know me, I make opps duck, I don’t duck opps