G Season Lyrics by T.I.


T.I. Lyrics

G Season Lyrics
Okay
Aye man
I'm sucka free, sucka back until all them suckas get the f*ck out my way man
You understand?
G season!

Told you motherf*ckers once, prison ain't changed me
All it did was made a nigga crazy, deranged see?
Psycho, nuts so, what I give a f*ck for?
All I know now is to get out and go for the gusto
So, f*ck niggas, f*ck hoes
They said, she said, nigga and what, so?
F*ck what they say 'bout my cases, f*ck what they say 'bout my lady
F*ck what they say we were doing on that day of visitation
All I care 'bout is my out date, the scripture of probation
How much dough I'm set to makin', where I'm gon go on vacation
Wait, damn
Okay, that's way too far ahead of me
So I'm just tryna take it day to day if they were never G
3 cop cars by the 3's
Bitches call me Papa John cause I keep that extra cheese
Overseas in the sun, living for the fun
In Milan with some bad bitches, probably want a youngin
What will it done? All the mama done
Ride foreign, comes drawing, getting blown by blunt
I'm the bomb, terrorist, hella rich, record shit
Nigga ask about me, homie I suggest you tell em this

I'm sucka ducking, I'm sucka free
You ain't a G? don't f*ck with me
Them sucka niggas out of style, G season
Them sucka niggas out of style, G season

My best flow too cold and jet bring it out
But go to talking crazy though, you get yourself singled out
Half a million bucks to pack the whole arena out
Being a sucka I don't need the first thing about
You get the scene, about to come in at your face
Like a volcano hell, lava running out your face
Hey, if your ass out of place
You done find the weapons they took away, I replaced
What can I say? Another year, another case
Another sentence completed, I'm confident and conceded
I'm sucka free, sucka duck and so tell them suckas to beat it
Don't f*ck with me, buster trust me your future will be deleted
Such a G, ain't no touching me, luckily I defeated the all
But out my two alarm glory to god
And I ain't even Islamic, so sick whenever I vomit
Just throw me a mill or two and that ought to settle my stomach
Box of money he done it, call me Mr. He-Run-It
These niggas ain't really bout it,
They just be speaking ebonics
I'm nothing short of iconic
Promise you you don't want it
Strong as gin & tonic, my left you won't see it coming
My right should be running from it, I catch you with it - you done
I'm a keep it 100, you better get you a gun
Word bond, real talk
Be my girdle by my lonely cause these suckas will talk

I'm sucka ducking, I'm sucka free
You ain't a G? don't f*ck with me
Them sucka niggas out of style, G season
Them sucka niggas out of style, G season

Pimp placed on my ass, the more I'm bitch I'm balling
Killing all my haters, tell yo momma pick it coffin
Hundred rack shorty, I just got ta pick a target
Put my name on that flyer, watch the party get retarded
And I got crazy in that bitch, feel like baby in that bitch
Got your lady on my dick cause I got like 80 on my wrist
KOD, I make it rain, I know they hate me in that bitch
Stop eating, just throwing money like they paid me for that shit, hold up
Caught it in the back, now I'm that nigga in the front
Shorty want the real and I'm a give her what she want
OG nigga, you can put it in the blunt
F*cking all the baddest bitches, I'm a hit em from the front
Good to see their faces on it when a nigga lay it on em
Every time she had a dick I tell her go to making all that
Lord have mercy, these bitches thirsty
I'm the mercy, she kissing on me Hershey, we in this bitch
I'm sucka ducking, I'm sucka free
That's your main bitch? She f*cking me
I don't f*ck with niggas, I'm a f*cking G
This Meek Millie, T I f*cking P

I'm sucka ducking, I'm sucka free
You ain't a G? don't f*ck with me
Them sucka niggas out of style, G season
Them sucka niggas out of style, G season
Writer: Kenny Gamble, Gene Mcfadden, Leon Huff, Clifford Harris, John Whitehead, Robert Williams
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner-tamerlane Publishing Corp., Songs Of Universal Inc., Domani And Ya Majesty'S Music, WB Music Corp.
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