Karate lyrics

by

T.I.


[Intro]
You know, This just some real n*gga sh*t, a real n*gga story
You know what I’m saying?

[Hook]
Slang a bunch of narcotics
Pull up in the new ‘rarri
Living like John Gotti
Chopping bricks like karate
Drink a bunch of codeine
Serve it to the dope fiends
Blowing money, stay clean
Michael Jackson, Billy Jean

[Verse 1: Trae Tha Truth]
Pull up in a Panamera lookin so clean
Weaving in and out of traffic like it’s on lean
Call me murda n*gga, tryna kill the whole scene
Getting money like I’m tryna feed the whole team
No lie, Im'a do it for the whole south
Somebody better tell them other n*ggas hold off
Keep f*ckin with a n*gga, Im'a go off
Jump fly, Im'a run up in that ho mouth
Gotta hella short temper, n*gga money long
Leave holes in a n*gga like a honey comb
Kill sh*t like I do a n*gga, n*gga’s on
as*h*le, you can see I’m in another zone
Real n*gga kick sh*t like karate
Chop n*ggas up like I’m tryna cook beef
b*tch wanna f*ck, gotta put er on a leash
Before I run up in er, then I put er back up there out on the street
Any time I cop a whip I’m goin floss
n*gga this hit the turn on lil boss
When it come to Houston, Texas that’s me
Tell em I’m ten for ten with no loss
[Verse 2: Future]
Got a Panamera round a young n*gga neck
Got a young b*tch pulling up in a vet
Smoke a lot of kush & I have a lot of sex
Had to beat the grind up, ran up my check
b*tch n*gga get money, n*gga get that
Roll a blunt of chronic, n*gga sell a lot of crack
You can hit a n*gga line, order what you want
I can whoop a Maserati, pulling up a donk
50,000 on yo watch, young n*gga splurge
Pop a ace of spade bottle, sip a lot of syrup
Keep a young n*gga workin’ that’ll bust a k
I’mma take a phone call, hustle everyday

[Hook]
Slang a bunch of narcotics
Pull up in the new ‘rarri
Living like John Gotti
Chopping bricks like karate
Drink a bunch of codeine
Serving to the dope fiends
Blowing money, stay clean
Michael Jackson, Billy Jean

[Verse 3: Future]
Whipping up a cake, just to go and snatch a spider
Young n*gga play with keys, like a type writer
Al Capone, John Gotti was a n*gga idol
I was never snitching, I can put it on the Bible
In a 4 door beamer, driving with a rifle
n*gga where you at, n*gga we gon pull up on ya
Young b*tch looking like Janet in the 80′s
We was grinding up from a tube and a baby
Got the girl dripping wet like a jerry curl
Got that styrofoam cup and its full of syrup
Send it over from Lil Mexico & Let me Work
I can get 36 for a clean shirt
[Hook]
Slang a bunch of narcotics
Pull up in the new ‘rarri
Living like John Gotti
Chopping bricks like karate
Drink a bunch of codeine
Serving to the dope fiends
Blowing money, stay clean
Michael Jackson, Billy Jean
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