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David Ball - Gots To Go lyrics
Feat. Bun B, Devin the Dude
 [Chorus: Devin the Dude]
 Ain't no tellin' where I might be
 I got places to go and people to see
 Ain't no tellin' where I'll end up
 I got shows to rock and hoes to fuck
 Ain't no tellin' where I might go
 Coast to Coast or just next do' (door)
 But, I gots to go, I gots to go
 Eh, eh, (I gots to go) eh (go), eh, eh, eh (gotta go)
 [Verse 1: David Banner]
 Roll up on that tour bus, smokin' a blunt
 Then heard a (dunn dunn dunn dunn dunn!) what yo' baby momma want?
 Nothin' but good fuckin' dick suckin' train runnin'
 She lickin' on my nuts, talk to her if she hear me comin'
 Watchin' me go
 She swallowed cum, you kissed a hoe
 Tongue and lip, all
 Man you really lickin' my balls
 Heard you for my baby momma last night nigga, nah
 But she did bring weed, no seeds, sticks all
 I'm lyin' when she come over, cock lyin' in her jaw
 Niggaz all up in her drawers
 And that's yo' baby mother
 If it makes you feel better, she's a good dick sucker (sucker)
[Chorus: Devin the Dude]
 [Verse 2: Devin the Dude]
 My Job takes me out of town on all-expense paid
 Wakin' up with a hangover 2,000 miles away
 It seems easy: weed, women, and wine
 Four hours of sleep is all you get - now it's time
 To tally hoe to the show, a yo, yo let it goDavid Ball - Gots To Go - http://motolyrics.com/david-ball/gots-to-go-lyrics.html
 Bust through the do' (door), rag & flow and grab my hoe
 And get back in the van with some titties in hand
 Let her meet ya new friend, who's willing to spend
 The whole night? Another flight another gig another city
 Touchin' on somebody's baby momma's titties
 Niggaz in the lobby wonderin' where their women are
 Third floor havin' a "Let's Become a Bitch Seminar"
 Can't get attached, I got a plane to catch
 I wish I could a hit that but I'll be back
 [Devin the Dude talking]
 Yo, (huh) ain't no tellin' where I'm a be at
 But you know, out the do' (door) uh huh
[Chorus: Devin the Dude]
 [Verse 3: Bun B]
 Yeeah, man this the king of the chillin' circuit, I'm aight, ten in it
 I'm paper chasin' and rap hustlin' it ain't no synonym
 My money ain't a game so I ain't worried bout winnin' it
 I'm worried bout makin' it, stackin' it and spendin' it (and spendin' it)
 Ain't no pretendin' it don't make the world move
 Same way you can't pretend my shit don't make yo' girl groove
 See, God work in myterious ways but I don't (don't)
 And the devil will make a deal wit yo' ass but I won't (won't)
 Now you can have the cleanest paint job on ya trucks
 Six T.V.s, wood wit leather seats, stitched and tucked
 The biggest chrome rims, playa, I don't give a fuck
 If I holla at yo' bitch, guarantee she gettin' buck
 You can yell and you can scream and you can fuss and you can fight
 Like it's the worst night in yo' life, to me it's just another night
 I ain't carin' bout ya drama (uh uh), or breakin' up ya home
 You just a joke for the crew and material for a song, main
[Chorus: Devin the Dude]









