Letras
Uh, nigga, you're gutted
Your paper on a budget
You ain't got a pot to piss in, no bucket
You niggas call ass on facts you can't cover
Your homie got bread, but you dead luggage!
Tommy Tucker, neighborhood sucka
Your baby mama duck ya
Your bitches won't fuck ya you petty, thief
Your name is "Don't trust ya"
Better stay out them peoples' store
'fore the cops cuff ya!
David Ruffin, Eddie Kane puffer
Nights like this
You wish for bread and butter
The raindrops fall on your
Head with no umbrella
Fella, eh, you're broke, you're busted
You're gutted!
You gutted, yeah, yeah, you gutted
You talking 'bout that bread but
Your bread ain't buttered
Yeah, yeah, you gutted, uh, uh, you gutted!
You talking Ace of Spades but
You balling on a budget!
Yeah, yeah, you gutted, yeah, yeah
You gutted
You see us, VIP, gold bottles in them buckets
Yeah, you gutted, yeah, yeah, you gutted
When the Roc Boys in the house, open bar
We got it covered!
Bitch, you're gutted
Your whole twist fucked up
Your knees stay scuffed up from
Sucking that nut up
Just to get a buck to get your hair did
Done up your manicuring refill them bare
Feet cheap heels
Or them dollar store Chinese slippers
Your weave track slippin'
Kitchen full of dishes
House full of Bébé's Kids that stay shitting
Baby bottle empty, your rent check missing
You rock Gucci this and that
But your kids bummy
You letting strangers claim them
For income tax money
You need a whole foot in your ass
That shit you pulling
You weekend looker, you hooker, you gutted!
You gutted, yeah, yeah, you gutted
You talking 'bout that bread but
Your bread ain't buttered