YO GOTTI


F-u Lyrics

f*ck you, f*ck you
f*ck you, f*ck you
Tell that hater I said
f*ck you, f*ck you
f*ck you, f*ck you
Tell your bitch I said

Me, ass up, face down
One night only, I’m from out of town
Count new rules, we ain’t waiting on it
And if that p*ssy good, it’s big cake on it
Plane ticket, hotel, new bag, new Channel
Giuseppe sneakers, his and hers
If you a hater I just got two words

f*ck you, f*ck you
f*ck you, f*ck you
Tell that hater I said
f*ck you, f*ck you
f*ck you, f*ck you
Tell your bitch I said

You and them bitches that you came with
All in my section, drinking my shit
You ain’t f*cking, you ain’t sucking, what you doing, hoe?
Instagram, you taking pictures, you don’t know me, though
Damn, she say she a fan
Yeah, I understand but I wanna get in her pants
‘Cause she thinking for, ‘cause she licking her tongue out
She say she don’t f*ck with rappers, I’m like ‘what you talking ‘bout, bitch?’

f*ck you, f*ck you
f*ck you, f*ck you
I got two words for you
f*ck you, f*ck you
f*ck you, f*ck you
Tell that hater I said

Oh, I said ‘f*ck ‘em’, I don’t like ‘em, I don’t love ‘em
When the money come, homies turn to haters, don’t trust ‘em
If the brick ain’t coming with a stick I don’t touch it
I want that beer medal with a scorpion when I bust her
Like a bitch when she twerking, y’all niggas working
Clown ass niggas, we should put you in the circus
In a cage with the lion, let it have you for desert
And test the fire of your army, took a dip in what you’re worth it, nigga

f*ck you, f*ck you
f*ck you, f*ck you
I met this bitch, she said ‘my friend, she wanna’
f*ck you, f*ck you
f*ck you, f*ck you
All in your room, but really, yo, I wanna
f*ck you, f*ck you
f*ck you, f*ck you
And if I hear my roadie, though, he gotta f*ck, too
Now put your middle fingers up and scream

Haters, nigga mad at the paper
Big crib, ten cars, twenty acres
Twenty chains, ten watches, all my jewels
Lil’ watch with the jest, don’t let it fool you
I could school you how to look like money
Hustler of the year, could write a book ‘bout money
Don’t park, don’t bother tryna impress them hoes
What you read of money better tell them hoes, bitch

f*ck you, f*ck you
f*ck you, f*ck you
Tell that bitch I said
f*ck you, f*ck you
f*ck you, f*ck you
Tell that hater I said

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Songwriter(s): Mario Giden, Robert Williams, Randy Klein, Randolf I. Klein, Marco AntonioRodriguez Diaz Jr, William Leonard Roberts, Millie Jackson
Record Label(s): 2013 Epic Records, a division of Sony Music Entertainment CMG
Official lyrics by

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