Gots To Go - David Banner

Ain’t no tellin' where I might be

I got places to go and people to see

Ain’t no tellin' where I’ll end up

I got shows to rock and hoes to fuck

Ain’t no tellin' where I might go

Coast to Coast or just next do'

But, I gots to go, I gots to go

Eh, eh, (I gots to go) eh (go), eh, eh, eh (gotta go)

Roll up on that tour bus, smokin' a blunt

Then heard a (dunn dunn dunn dunn dunn!) what yo' baby momma want?

Nothin' but good fuckin', dick suckin', train runnin'

She lickin' on my nuts, Cock to her ear, she hear me comin'

Watchin' me go

She swallowed cum, you kissed a hoe

Tongue and lip, all

Man you really lickin' my balls

«I heard you fucked my baby momma last night»

Nigga, nah

But she did bring weed, no seeds, sticks all

I’m lyin', when she come over, cock lyin' in her jaw

Niggas all off in her drawers

And that’s yo' baby mother

If it makes you feel better, she’s a good dick sucker

My job takes me out of town on all-expense paid

Wakin' up with a hangover 2,000 miles away

It seems easy: weed, women, and wine

Four hours of sleep is all you get — now it’s time

To tally hoe to the show, a yo, yo there they go

Bust through the do', rap & flow and grab a hoe

And get back in the van with some titties in hand

Let her meet ya new friend, who’s willing to spend

The whole night

Another flight, another gig, another city

Touchin' on somebody’s baby momma’s titties

Niggas in the lobby wonderin' where their women are

Third floor havin' a «Let's Become a Bitch» Seminar

Can’t get attached, I got a plane to catch

I wish I could a hit that, but I’ll be back

Yo, (huh) ain’t no tellin' where I’m a be at

But you know, I gotta go uh huh

Yeeah, man this the king of the chitlin' circuit, I’m I-10'n in it

I’m paper chasin' and rap hustlin' it ain’t no sin in it

My money ain’t a game, so I ain’t worried bout winnin' it

I’m worried bout makin' it, stackin' it and spendin' it (and spendin' it)

Ain’t no pretendin' it don’t make the world move

Same way you can’t pretend my shit don’t make yo' girl groove

See, God work in myterious ways but I don’t (don't)

And the devil will make a deal wit yo' ass but I won’t (won't)

Now you can have the cleanest paint job on ya trucks

Six T.V.s, wood wit leather seats, stitched and tucked

The biggest chrome rims, playa, I don’t give a fuck

If I holla at yo' bitch, guarantee she gettin' buck

You can yell and you can scream and you can fuss and you can fight

Like it’s the worst night in yo' life, to me it’s just another night

I ain’t carin' bout ya drama (uh), or breakin' up ya home

You just a joke for the crew and material for a song, mayne