Letra de 'Don't Know (Luca Brasi 3)' de Kevin Gates

Pardon the body, wide body switching lanes
Difference, me and you are not the same
Keep going, steady ducking methods
Bitch niggas steady throwing at me
Swim through it, going for the cheddar
Big dog running through the letters
Now I got young niggas slanging K's
No mistake, and they know better
Now I got some sons I done raised
White t-shirts, rocking J's
Trap house through a brick a day
I meant to say they be serving J's
Probably do a nine day in rocks
Clear tech ticking, that's a watch
Got that out the work, a cell block
Closed cell restrictions, C-C-R
Still calling shots on the yard
I don't need a rod, I am the rod
Believe in God not a bodyguard
Tatted bad, bought a lotta scars
Cold heart got my body hard
Mills in the lab when I record
M's on the table, got employed
Drop something, perfect timing for it

To hide my scars from the next life, most likely why I dress nice
You tell me you just burned something, I probably tell you: That's nice
Maneuver through the trenches, foreign vehicle headlights
Scalp itch while thinking, many might believe that's head lice
Jump out, don't get star-struck, clique out, clip wit'cho car up
Big Gates just gave an order while sipping coffee at Starbucks
Vacuum-seal it all up, resin resembles sawdust
I'm him, got many nicknames, they don't know what to call us

Transforms speak less, yeah
Big drugs, we that, yeah
I bought a loft to chill
She couldn't stay 'cause her pussy was ill
Hit from the back, throw it back, I'm like: Eeh!
Pull her hair, wrap it up in my wrist
Get wit' me, got some money to get
Private driver keep the wheel in the road
X-ray machine trippin' the load
Magnetics, speed thermometer slow
Out in Illinois grabbing 'em whole
On the block, caught a trick for a pole
On your lap, I could hit you wit' dough
On your cap, you get hit for a O
Big bread, holdin' shop in the snow
In the back, catching that at the store
Send money to my niggas for soap
On land, I'm a bless 'em with clothes
Pray to God business never exposed
Everybody living under the code
Real player, I ain't tryna get chose
Many call, few only get those
Lil' raw tryna soak in your nose
Mugged up, kinda show 'em my goals

To hide my scars from the next life, most likely why I dress nice
You tell me you just burned something, I probably tell you: That's nice
Maneuver through the trenches, foreign vehicle headlights
Scalp itch while thinking, many might believe that's head lice
Jump out, don't get star-struck, clique out, clip wit'cho car up
Big Gates just gave her auto, while sippin' coffee at Starbucks
Vacuum-seal it all up, resin resembles sawdust
I'm him, got many nicknames, they don't know what to call us