Kevin Gates - Shit lyrics

Yeah (Oh my God, is that Avery?) Out here Yeah Yeah I don't owe a ni**a sh*t I'm a grinder, I wasn't built to ride the bench Forgot about my problems, I got rich I got b*tches, I got ni**as, family members on my dick Who talk behind your back when you don't wanna give 'em sh*t I don't owe a ni**a sh*t Lose the chance if you don't take the risk I don't need no one to tell me what I'm is I don't owe a ni**a sh*t b*tches gettin' pregnant, keep you from your kids Then complain 'bout what you haven't did I don't owe you b*tches sh*t Presidential Day-Date, 18 karat plain jane Reminiscin' times that meals was missin', havin' hunger pains Remember when the b*tch that you was feelin' played a bunch of games? Remember when them ni**as lent you somethin' and tried to stain your name? Big body Benz say, "Dick, how you holdin' up?" Pillow talkin' with them hoes that I don't wanna fu*k Street ni**a, shout out to my ni**as out in Memphis You sneak dissin' Brasi, pussy ni**a, you got titties Posted in Atlanta, Fitness Center, in here workin' Gossipin' like b*tches, you lil' ni**as went and got surgery Remember that last time that you ain't wanna see no murder? Remember MAC-11 Kevin? Dealer, yo, I'm servin' Real ni**a, what up? Know I like to cut up Non-convicted felon-ass ni**a, shut the fu*k up I sent that b*tch from jail, paid his bill and got him bossed up Villa by the water, barber givin' me a touch-up With the hand I'ma stand, carbon drum up on a come up Big b*tch'll your rip stomach, probably make you cough a lung up Big b*tch here hold a hunnid, better pray this b*tch get hung up Bricks from Colombia delivered on a dump truck I don't owe a ni**a sh*t I'm a grinder, I wasn't built to ride the bench Forgot about my problems, I got rich I got b*tches, I got ni**as, family members on my dick Who talk behind your back when you don't wanna give 'em sh*t I don't owe a ni**a sh*t Lose the chance if you don't take the risk I don't need no one to tell me what I'm is I don't owe a ni**a sh*t b*tches gettin' pregnant, keep you from your kids Then complain 'bout what you haven't did I don't owe you b*tches sh*t Thank God for uniforms, Lord knows I wasn't fresh I used to wear my mama Bongo jeans or some dirty sweats Dreaming 'bout that texture, swear to God, I want big rings Cars with the big chains, cigars with a sick dame Load of clothes in the washer, your lil' drawers still got sh*t stains ni**a 'round the corner puttin' that dick all in your b*tch brains How is she to blame? She just addicted to the lifestyle Pop out, drop the top, who not gon' let me lay that pipe down? Pull her hair and hit her from the back, b-b-b-ba-yow Gotta catch a play, I cannot stay, okay, goodbye now Remember when they passed by you and laughed while you was walkin'? God blessed you with a swag, you got that bag, look who talkin' Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am, you could scram, you're a toadie No one's got a name for it, don't know what to call it Lean by the liter, but you not a alcoholic Say you wanna grab a dub, why the fu*k you stallin'? Diamonds in my fu*kin' teeth, I'm forever ballin' Dior slides, Polo tees on an island flossin' Jim Carrey, you get outta line, I got a choke ya My name Kevin and I'm home alone like Macaulay Culkin (Kevin) I don't owe a ni**a sh*t I'm a grinder, I wasn't built to ride the bench Forgot about my problems, I got rich I got b*tches, I got ni**as, family members on my dick Who talk behind your back when you don't wanna give 'em sh*t I don't owe a ni**a sh*t Lose the chance if you don't take the risk I don't need no one to tell me what I'm is I don't owe a ni**a sh*t b*tches gettin' pregnant, keep you from your kids Then complain 'bout what you haven't did I don't owe you b*tches sh*t