Yo Gotti – Just Left The Hamptons Lyrics

Billion dollar mind frame, hunnid thousand chump change
Gunpowder on my sleeve and I ain’t been to a gun range
All these diamonds real as me, they certified
Ain’t ducking no problems, just identify
All these bitches fuck with you, yeah, business-wise
They say you pay good just to get inside

N****, you a trick where I’m from
To a bitch, you a lick where I’m from
You can’t even visit where I’m from
Picture having five hunnid thousand on your arm
One-fifty on your chain, another seventy in your charm
Picture having switches on your gun
Once you pull that trigger, it’s a drum and can’t nobody run
Get away from it
Play with me, you got a date on it
I tell a bitch to wait on it, bitch, I ain’t your player homies

On another note, I just left The Hamptons
Landed in my city private, me and my accountants
Michael Rubin just inspired me
All white party, what’s the earning
That I thought getting a hunnid bricks was ill
N**** put a hunnid mill’ in the crib, damn

This like ’96 off
I used to have the money in the loft
Housing bitches with the work, that was law
Worry when in one jump and I sold the sauce
And when you won, you don’t gotta say you a boss, n****
It’s in your moves, never play to lose
I graduated streets and school
Clean look, college cut, half a ticket, I was moving smooth, n****

Seen in you in my school, n****
Ask my teachers ’bout me, this ain’t nothing new, n****
Most likely to succeed
First semester college, got a thousand pounds of weed
Yeah, I have more gas than Texaco
College dropout, I went to study business out in Mexico
You know, yeah, yeah, you know

But on another note, I landed in The Hamptons with the Draco
My mind fucked up, I gotta let these streets go
Emotions don’t feel safe, I don’t think so
I’d rather be prepared than not be ready
I come from a world where shit get deadly
Before I be a corpse, I’d be a celly

And I’d rather rot before I tell it
This no regular AP, this a skele’
Yeah, n****, this the Holy Grail
Like Amazon Prime, I’ll send it through the mail
Zip so tight, you’d think you had no sense of smell
Street n***** sending rap money to the jails
If I win a award, tell BET I want a scale
I wanna represent the streets, I wanna represent them bells
I went platinum in that kitchen, bringing it down, watchin’ it gel

I’m with the Krafts in The Hamptons, what the hell
Shit crazy
Anything possible n****, you know what I’m sayin’
Real dope boy, n****
And I just left The Hamptons

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