Yo Gotti, EST Gee & CMG The Label

Yo Gotti, EST Gee & CMG The Label – Fa Fa Fa Lyrics

Fa Fa Fa

Yo Gotti, EST Gee & CMG The Label

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"Fa Fa Fa." - Yo Gotti, EST Gee & CMG The Label

Thursday, 22 October 2026, 06:43 pm

Album: Gangsta Art 2

Track No: 03

Hey, who dat?
Johngotitt
Trap beat still doing numbers
Big Gotti still got runners
Twenty years straight, no fumbles
Wild life **** from the jungle
**** too small to be cocky
And I'm too big to be humble
Yeah, I was okay, rich selling thunder
Too much, can't tuck it, I'm punching
I ain't get no game from my uncles
So I ain't show em' no love on the numbers, fuck 'em
Shit, they hated my pops
They act like it's love 'cause I'm up, but it's not
First in the city, put switch on a Glock
First **** paid five figures a drop
Keep it a good grip when you hitting, it's hot
Put one on top and then hop out the car wit' that
Fa, fa, fa, fa, fa
Fa, fa, fa, fa, fa
More than twin flames hitting up that car (Flat)
I'll make a **** call for Allah (On God)
I'ma trap ****, baby, I'm a star (I am)
When I say go bar for bar (Sticks)
See, that's a hunnid thousand Xanax bars (Bars)
I could buy it on a Amex card (Swipe)
Ain't no receipt on a pack, ****
Ain't no bringing this shit back, ****
Fuck around and get flapped, ****
Fa, fa, fa, fa, fa
Fa, fa, fa, fa, fa
I got these sticks in the rental
This bitch in the car, she too sentimental
I got my dawg in my car and he fuck with the opps, he playing the middle
Oh, he thinking he slime, I'm three steps ahead, he don't even know it
I told him I need some gas, I get out then pump it, they pull up and blow it
I was chilling in Turks, my **** on Percs, he talking 'bout killing (Killing)
I'm tryna exit the streets, this shit gotta ceiling, I'm thinking 'bout billions ('Bout billions)
I just talked to Drew Finland, they finna free dawg, you don't know the feeling
Yeah, you don't know the feeling, they lock up your partner, y'all running up millions
Yeah, I just jumped off the island, I'm back on a tour
Jump off the tour and I'm back in the trap
Jump out the trap and go up to the office
Put down the strap, go through some offers
Pick up my strap and I'm back at the door
Phone on private, ain't dropping my lo' (My lo')
Calling the label, they late on our paper, we treating this shit like we still selling dope
Brand new Ferrari, I ordered it (Skrrt)
Asian masseuse, imported it (Imported it)
I'm on the side my **** on, so if they get on your ass, I'm supporting it
I'm too big for the bullshit, I already know it (I know it)
I know better but I ignore it (Ignore it)
I'm not a rapper, I'm a poet (What am I?)
Street ****, drug lord (Gotti)
Let the beat breathe
Hey, let the beat breathe on these pussies
Just vibe out, flex, know what I'm saying?
First 100k I remember
First seven figures I remember
First AK I remember
It was cold day in December
First **** felt it, first **** felt that fa
First ****
First **** y'all let die
Pussies

Writer(s): Mario Mims, George Stone III, John Carlos Ramirez, Max Jacobsson & Randy Razz II.

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