Artist: Yo Gotti
Album:  CM7 (Cocaine Muzik 7) - The World Is Yours Mixtape
Song:   Buy Out
Typed by: AZ Lyrics

A hundred miles and running, niggas going at the end of me
Niggas switching sides, give me nothing like it's the end of me
Niggas having family, but I know these niggas into me
Pown me, thug it to the motherfucker sin is me
I'm a train the topic time down, bitch, I'm riding in a 'rarri
If you don't like me, than I'm sorry
I ain't og, I'm just being me, fucking pretty clear
I rap about this shit, 'cause I did it
Life don't change, neither do the game
Niggas getting money, but the rules stay the same
Who I'm gonna sound with, who I wanna ground with?
That's my only question, nigga, see 'em G I'm down with
Cocaine mirrors, cold money guns
every nigga I fuck with with the g I make them bun
So I never leave the house without my chain on my gut
Got on my old boy Gucci so I fresh pearl once

See, nigga, see, I feel like I wanna release, nigga
I got to face earth, you know what I mean?
And then I got nothing to do and get no money
And that, nigga, that be a hundred
That be a hundred with yourself, that be a hundred with the niggas
A hundred with you, you know what I mean?
Man, I got a lot of young nigga around me, nigga
And that's straight of low life family, nigga, could kill for each other
That thing is real

Murder was the case, nigga, jump a hoardal with a race nigga, down
Then I put it in your face, to the face, on my case, nigga
Told my lawyer go to trial, I'm doing it big in the meanwhile
If I lose, place a riot for me, if I die don't stay fire for me
Pour on some liquor and get higher for me
I'm doing this thing for my home boys
I have it, oh, lord, so surely can avoid
I came here speaking from my heart for some time around
Am I a real rapper or just a nigga on lands?
I don't know, I'm confused, do I suppose to be rich?
You know that hoe ain't your hoe, she's your supposed to be bitch
No supposed to be clip, I want no allias
You see 'em G, homie and we don't franchise
I get green gas off the whipe ass, don't get in that pot
And he get bout time
Hallelujah, bless my shooters, serve my jazle, watch him hit that shooter
Fuck that rap shit, I don't fit in
How they fuck boys, how they fake friends
Streets on fire, plug on gold mode, streets so damn dry, I might get a truck load
Fuck your country, I won't sign it, labels keep calling me, but I don't call back