T.I. - G' Sh*t lyrics

I'm a rich n***a like I don't know I can change if I wanna, but I won't though Do it right even when I'm on the wrong road Real talk from the heart what I'm known for Skinny jeans, I don't do those I'm the start us up part or the shoot for Fully automatic chopper, you could shoot though Now I'm moving five mill when I shoot dough Audemar, Hublot One point five on the two-do' Old hustle, new flow Old money, new ho s**er-free and I'mma chill, bro, I'm too cold Long as I'm around f** they need you for? Riding in the Chevy toting three bricks Since nobody wanna make G sh** This is for the gangsters, for the pimps and hoes This is for the dopeboy trappers selling halves and hoes (Since nobody wanna make G sh**) They want G sh**, give it to 'em They want G sh**, give it to 'em If you don't know me let me tell you something, shawty Still got that chopper, make you run for it Camouflage, dog tags Got 'em following, when you see me better haul a** Keep it G at all costs, whatchu call that Crack rock, hip hop, I done all that Certified trap n***a, s**er, fall back A broke n***a he may entertain all that All left field, keep it true, n***a Save the flash in the dance for a new n***a Keep speaking for the ones who ain't got a voice k** 'em dead only when they leave no other choice How I see it, if you ain't gotta die about it? Don't waste my time, slime, why the f** we talking about it? Still riding in the Chevy toting three bricks Since nobody wanna make G sh** This is for the gangsters, for the pimps and hoes This is for the dopeboy trappers selling halves and hoes (Since nobody wanna make G sh**) They want G sh**, give it to 'em They want G sh**, give it to 'em Now what the f** is an ounce? We smoking bout an LB We don't even do the nine, sell it by the whole ki And I'mma take this sh** to trial, they got nothing on me Avion, the Champagne, b**h, I'm 'bout to OD I got a bag full of birds and motherf**ers getting bought Bars on the trap doors got it looking like a vault Used to hit the highway over twenty of them things Young n***a hit the club with the twenty of them chains When Jay was beefing with Nas I was selling c**aine When Game was beefing with 50 I was doing the same thing I was at the hospital, n***a, Meechy got shot f** you n***as talking 'bout? I love that n***a like Pac This is for the gangsters, for the pimps and hoes This is for the dopeboy trappers selling halves and hoes (Since nobody wanna make G sh**) They want G sh**, give it to 'em They want G sh**, give it to 'em