Cases Lyrics - Live From The Kitchen - Yo Gotti

"Cases" 

(feat. 2 Chainz) 

We cop Rozay by the cases, Forces by the cases 

Three hundred dollar True Religion, we cop em by the cases 

Lawyer fight my cases, Gucci's got no laces 

Bakin' Soda by the cases, in the kitchen doin' the matrix 

Go up, down, up, down, my top doing the matrix 

I'll need a model, we don't ride shit basic 

Everything kitty, cocaine crazy 

Bitch they hit my phone, they fucked up my situation 

DJ droppin' Gotti, dope boy's all went cray 

Shoot a thousand, bet a thousand, gambling with your savings 

Kitchen doing numbers, I may need a helper 

Bitch said she wasn't fucking, so you know a nigga left her 

Rozay by the cases, rubbers by the boxes 

They all that I'm the shit, so how the fuck she gon' be cocky? 

Yeah these hoes be foxy, yeah, my eyes be rockin' 

I pulled up in that white cutlass, 4: 15 that bass was droppin' 

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We cop Rozay by the cases, Forces by the cases 

Three hundred dollar True Religion, we cop em by the cases 

Lawyer fight my cases, Gucci's got no laces 

Bakin' Soda by the cases, in the kitchen doin' the matrix 

I am gearin' to the money, all upper cases 

Trap on fire, I stay down the street from Satan 

Hell on Earth, I say hello to my neighbor 

Ghetto nigger got a mansion, and I'm still stealing cable 

Still air force ridin', I should get sky mileage 

Try me in the club, we gon' whoop your ass inside it 

All my hoes excited, damn yo weed is quiet 

Plug getting mad, cause he think I'm gon' retire 

Just had a case, lawyer ask for a dismissal 

Real d-boy, I gotta settle for some Christmas 

Me and Yo Gotti, from Atlanta down to Memphis 

Getting money I could pay you nigga, fool, pay attention 

Photos 

Favorite rapper dead, so the gamin' got borin' 

Pulled up in some foreign, drop the top and hit the horn 

Snatched out doin' a hundred, they like Gotti where ya goin'? 

I got a bitch from THU, I'm 'bout to scoop her from the dorm 

Yeah, we doin' the matrix, call her children of the corn 

Fuckin', somethin' ain't right, 'n she gon' swallow my unborn 

Friends say she whorrin', talkin' bout she goin' 

Say she want that Luis bag, I asked her which one 

It's not a big issue nigga, know my ho can get it 

I could get your bottle, truckload fill up my whole kitchen 

Why these niggas bitchin, when they come down to they bitches 

All these excuses, all this trickin, man I guess they just ain't get me