Song Lyrics

I got 'em, I got 'em, I got 'em
I got 'em, I got 'em, I got 'em
I got 'em, I got 'em, I got 'em
I got 'em, I got 'em, I got 'em
I got 'em, I got 'em, I got 'em
I got 'em, I got 'em, I got 'em
I got 'em, I got 'em, I got 'em (drank)
I got 'em, I got 'em, I got 'em (I got mine)
I got 'em, I got 'em, I got 'em (I got mine, do you got yours?)
I got 'em, I got 'em, I got 'em (phew)

I got all kinds
All type of sticks and that ain't no lie
Nigga wanna play, I'ma pull up with fire
Draco, AR-15 with the beam on
Y'all ain't gon' wanna play, bro, like stay home (stay home)
Yeah, loaded full, loaded paper, loaded baked potato (yeah)
I got them young niggas ready to blaze ya
Y'all niggas playin', I turn you to a vapor
More and more money, more and more haters
Sticks-R-Us, they know not to play with us
Grown man shit, nigga, you's a dummy
Smoking crack rock, nigga, you's a junkie
You like to fall off track, you's a flunky
Back in the trap house for me, I get money
With the rap shit, nigga, back to my gunnin'
Got my chains on, nigga ain't taking nothin'
In the booth turned up, nigga, I got money
Tryna have that bitch lit from Monday through Sunday
Loaded, loaded bank account got paper
Loaded, loaded Glock for my hater

Pop in your house like I'm Freddy Krueger
Young nigga, Glock with the Ruger, ooh
I don't really like to do the Rugers, ooh
Some of y'all niggas do what they gotta do
And they like to do what they gotta do
Paid 'em in full just to come and shoot
Boy, you know you through, boy, you know you done
Man, they got the gun, boy, you better run
They don't wanna hear the gunfire
They don't wanna see their partner die
They don't wanna see their mama cry
Pissin' on your grave when you die
Got no remorse, no lie
Get your get back, yeah, pussy-ass nigga
But you can't, pussy nigga, 'cause you died, yeah (ahaha)
But you can't, pussy nigga, 'cause you died (yeah)

Yeah, I got my dawgs, man, I put shit in the bowl
They ain't ate in a minute, they'll shake ya
Yeah, yeah, in Beverly, nigga, this money don't make us
Yeah, yeah, came from the hood, OGs didn't make us
Yeah, f*ck is you talkin' 'bout, nigga? (Yeah)
What is they talking 'bout? Nothin', they bluffin'
Talking 'bout money but they ain't getting nothin'
I can see a nigga, y'ain't doin' nothin'
Look at your pockets, man, you ain't got nothin'
I'm like, "Damn, bruh, that don't make no sense
You ain't got no money, not even fifty cents
You can't buy no fucking cigarette or shit
Talking 'bout beef, man, put that to a end
I cannot beef with no Jake, not my friend
I'ma chase the money if it ain't comin' in
I get more money than I ever did
I had to cut 'em off, I finally went in
Keep me a money counter 'cause it print
I'm thumbing through money, thumbin' through this shit
I got these hoes in the trap bent
Dumb and the booted Perc' kickin' in
Hit her from the back, now I'm going in
Suck me up, bitch, say hello to my friend
Many, many, many MAC-10s
And the car black tint
Late night, she sucking, fucking
That ain't nothin'
Thinking 'bout the time I had her with her friend
I just reminisce

Pop in your house like I'm Freddy Krueger
Young nigga, Glock with the Ruger, ooh
I don't really like to do the Rugers, ooh
Some of y'all niggas do what they gotta do
And they like to do what they gotta do
Paid 'em in full just to come and shoot
Boy, you know you through, boy, you know you done
Man, they got the gun, boy, you better run
They don't wanna hear the gunfire
They don't wanna see their partner die
They don't wanna see their mama cry
Pissin' on your grave when you die
Got no remorse, no lie
Get your get back, yeah, pussy-ass nigga
But you can't, pussy nigga, 'cause you died, yeah (ahaha)
But you can't, pussy nigga, 'cause you died (yeah)

Quantavious T Thomas, Maurice Mcadams

The duration of That's Why is 3:41 minutes and seconds.