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Touchdown

by Zed Zilla

on Cocaine Muzik 4 (2010)

[Intro]
(Uh, oh)
Aye you know I'm cocaine crazy right ?
(Looks like a blowout)
These n*ggas go white this, white that
Quit f*cking with me (white everything)
Aye lil b*tch I f*ck with talk bout she want white cat
You know this my city n*gga! (ho you crazy)
pus*y ass n*gga
(Cocaine 4)

[Hook]
I got bass in the trunk, highs on the inside
Marshmallow paint, 49ers on the inside
Touchdown, a n*gga going long
Field goal, extra point a n*gga going strong
210 on the dash, Blue jean inside
White wit blue top, like the Yankees when I come pastt
Home run, that boy out the park
Bases loaded, world series, that boy hustle smart

[Verse 1]
Streets talking, Gotti been doing good
n*ggas wanna try em, couple n*ggas from the hood
You know how that go, n*ggas say you dont f*ck with em
Truth be told when I was hustlin I ain't f*ck with em (f*ck em)
Same n*gga still owe me on a pack
Think a n*gga forgot because I'm rappin? (nah)
When I get off the road, I shoot back to my town
New whips, new watch, f*ck with me, its going down
Own family hating, n*ggas looking mad
Guess it be little better if a n*gga was doing bad,
But momma got a smile
Brother still wild
I gotta get this money, I just had another child,
They say I'm getting fat, guess I'm eating good
20 racks in the motor, got my name under the hood, (Yo Gotti),
Sometimes I think back, I could've went fed
This a chance in a lifetime, I gotta think ahead

[Hook]
I got bass in the trunk, highs on the inside
Marshmallow paint, 49ers on the inside
Touchdown, a n*gga going long
Field goal, extra point a n*gga going strong
210 on the dash, Blue jean inside
White wit blue top, like the Yankees when I come pastt
Home run, that boy out the park
Bases loaded, world series, that boy hustle smart

[Verse 2]
My city rooting for me, the club owners mad, cause I won't come to kick it for under 25 bands
And you taking it personal I'm just tryna feed my man's
See you ain't a real n*gga so that's something you wouldn't understand
But if it wern't for my homeboys and if it wern't for my fans
I would of been clicked on u b*tches, doing a quarter off in the can
But I'mma keep on grinding and keep on shining cause thats what you can't stand
And I'mma kill u b*tches softly every time I ride pass
What the f*ck make you wanna compete with me?
Like you street as me
Running round here talking down, b*tch you ain't use to be with me
b*tch you ain't use to tote heat with me
b*tch you ain't use to eat with me
b*tch I was thuggin in ridgecrest yo funky ass was somewhere down da street
Yo f*ck ass ain't no real g
Tell me where they do that at
Gang bang in yo neighborhood but round me wouldn't even throw up your set
Motherf*ckers do anything for a check, ok thats cool
But don't f*ck around and let Project Pat or Juicy J get your ass wet
On another note I'm the same n*gga wit mo paper and more bigger
And when ever I'm in town b*tch I'm right here on shady vista
My jewelry on, and my car parked, my shirt off with no pistol
Ain't nan, n*gga gone take nuttn
My lil n*ggas a shake sum
My lil n*ggas got mo paper, my lil n*ggas don't even rap
Runnin round talk bout you got signed, b*tch you still living in the trap

[Hook]
I got bass in the trunk, highs on the inside
Marshmallow paint, 49ers on the inside
Touchdown, a n*gga going long
Field goal, extra point a n*gga going strong
210 on the dash, Blue jean inside
White wit blue top, like the Yankees when I come pastt
Home run, that boy out the park
Bases loaded, world series, that boy hustle smart