Major League – Kevin Gates Lyrics Download

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“Major League”

[Intro]

Well, one of these ol’ pussy-ass niggas do what y’all salute (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Bitch-ass niggas know they actin’ cap (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

“Luca Brasi”

[Verse]

On the road, back to back for shows, and I ain’t get a cent off that (At all)

Back to cookin’ fish, smell like a brick, I got that scent off that (On God)

Closed doors, ones closest hurtin’ your emotions (Huh?)

Then get ’round, they fake supporters and play perfect on the socials (Hmm)

I can’t go along to get a long, I’m a big soldier (Easy)

Killa Stone reincarnatin’, all Magnolia

That other nigga, we are not the same, fall back homie (Bitch)

I am downtown, night ward, Baton Rouge, big dawg

E-Wayne, K-Wayne, B-Wayne, gettin’ off (Woo)

Meditate, Seroquel, Elavil, sick cough (Roof)

New buildin’, violated

Got shipped, ten songs

I done been up-state with niggas afraid to walk the big yard

Bad karma come to those who cross me, bust the beef here (Boom, boom)

70805, I pull up, hop off, got some street cred’

Lil’ one snuck me, he dead, that other nigga, he dead

I’m major league swingin’ this big bitch, you know how we play it

Copied all my tats, he actin’ like he put in work for this (Yeah)

You ain’t work the trench, you pussy bitch, you rode a bunch of dicks

Heal with that retinol, yeah

Four niggas in folders, yeah

Lord’s got a name for it, don’t know what to call it yet

Gunner, ward mighty, Breadwinner, John Gotti (Wah)

King Ox hit the fed, cut his dreads, kept it solid (Wah)

Tell Lil Hank, that’s my gangster, Jonathan like John Stockton

Know if I go back, I could lay back ’cause I know that he got me

[Dre?] chillin’ my accountant, buku money counters counting

I get John Wheeler, all of his responses gon’ be copied (Gone)

Pretty bitch, big booty, Texas, she responded (What up?)

Eat that dick up on command, meanin’ she in correspondence

Pretty feet, I nibble on her cheeks when we at my apartment (Oh)

All up in her arteries, I slang that dick in high performance

Real drug lord fresh, Kevin dress designer garments

Plugged in, I’ma [make colder?], opposite of boring

Really did it from the corner, graduated to a trap spot

You knew ’bout Gates, 2008, you call that bitch the Match Box

Safety pin and nitro digit scales, I’m moving crack out

Lil’ bitch off Tennessee in here with me, I blew her back out

My partner tellin’ me the game foul, I should back out

My same partner left me in a gown with my back out

Rappers got around me, my stories, they re-enact out

Real big speakers, you ain’t did no time, it just don’t add out

Vroom, Urus wide body kit, I whip the Lamb’ out

Talked about by pussy niggas who indigent with they hand out

Heroin and syringes, real militant, it should tan out

First niggas said they stand on nation business, I’m official

Feelin’ like Demar Derozan, got looked over, turned me vicious

They salute the fakes, say, “Fuck the real,” I wonder what I did ’em

I got plenty pretty women whom I won’t give no commitment

Steppin’ on these niggas, fell in love with my new mission

I know music cool, but I know sellin’ drugs would get me richer

With the shit of life sentence come with this and I’m convicted

[Outro]

Damn, we done run out of beat

Song Details