Jackboy - Gotta Do lyrics

Jackboy [Pierre DeLince]

[Jackboy - Gotta Do lyrics]

Momma told me keep on shittin’
On whoever going against you
(Okay, okay)
I’m not beefing with that nigga
Naw dude really my lil’ sister
(He my lil’)
I’m not beefing with that
Nigga, naw he pussy
He really on his period
(Really on his)
I don’t give a fuck who say he thuggin’
He really fakin’ nigga, I ain’t hearing it
(Naw, naw, ay, yea)
I don’t give a fuck who feel some type of way
Nigga, do whatever you gotta do (Okay, okay)
I’m not Ben Simmons with this shit
Nigga, I’mma hit every time I shoot
(Every time I shoot, ay)
Keep my distance from these niggas
They walking around with the bitch-nigga flu
(Bitch nigga flu, yea, ay, ay)
It be just me and my pistol
I ain’t stepping out here with no group
(With no crew, naw)

It be just me and myself in
That Lamborghini riding with a pistol
I got money to keep me company
I ain’t tryna hang with these niggas
I got money to keep me company
But it can’t take away the pain
I done been through so much shit
I can peep when you’re running game
Can’t treat me like a lame
I’m alert I’m staying focused
I’m rolling right now off a perc
Going with the motions
I keep a Glock nine got
‘em thinking I’m from Orlando
I’m putting up big numbers
I’m too much for them to handle

Momma told me keep on shittin’
On whoever going against you
(Okay, okay)
I’m not beefing with that nigga
Naw dude really my lil’ sister
(He my lil’)
I’m not beefing with that
Nigga, naw he pussy
He really on his period
(Really on his)
I don’t give a fuck who say he thuggin’
He really fakin’ nigga, I ain’t hearing it
(Naw, naw, ay, yea)
I don’t give a fuck who feel some type of way
Nigga, do whatever you gotta do (Okay, okay)
I’m not Ben Simmons with this shit
Nigga, I’mma hit every time I shoot
(Every time I shoot, ay)
Keep my distance from these niggas
They walking around with the bitch-nigga flu
(Bitch nigga flu, yea, ay, ay)
It be just me and my pistol
I ain’t stepping out here with no group
(No crew)

I did not make it up out the projects
Just to come back and try to chill
Why the fuck would I bring you with me?
Been knew your love wasn’t real
I’ve been stacking up my dollars
They ain’t happy, they hating on the low
You will never get your
Flowers while you here
They don’t want you to grow
I heard it’s smoke so I
Keep that blicky real near
I’mma let it blow
Type to bag a nigga
Then I go steer clear and hide on a boat
I’m not Ben Simmons with this shit
When I shoot my shot it’s more precise
I’m like Curry with that pole
I won’t miss tryna take his life

Momma told me keep on shittin’
On whoever going against you
(Okay, okay)
I’m not beefing with that nigga
Naw dude really my lil’ sister
(He my lil’)
I’m not beefing with that
Nigga, naw he pussy
He really on his period
(Really on his)
I don’t give a fuck who say he thuggin’
He really fakin’ nigga, I ain’t hearing it
(Naw, naw, ay, yea)
I don’t give a fuck who feel some type of way
Nigga, do whatever you gotta do (Okay, okay)
I’m not Ben Simmons with this shit
Nigga, I’mma hit every time I shoot
(Every time I shoot, ay)
Keep my distance from these niggas
They walking around with the bitch-nigga flu
(Bitch nigga flu, yea, ay, ay)
It be just me and my pistol
I ain’t stepping out here with no group
(With no crew, naw)

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