Papi Goyo - Houdini

Me and the truth ain’t nothing between us
Pray to my Jesus I pack out arenas
They knew I'm the realest when they seen my fetus
Dripping in Polo I’m smoking on Cheebah
In February I go Costa Rica
In Mexico I drink Manzanita
She always bring spice so I call her paprika
Shouts my Brazilians they in Curitiba
After my workouts I hit up the steamer
Then I count fetti up chill in my Filas
Plug sent that pack off my eyes like a demon
Multiply money like I am Houdini
I am low key they ain’t spot me ain’t seen me
I am a businessman profits obscene
I am not Nas but I want triple beam
I am not Wu but I do want the cream
I am not Mob but I’m rolling in deep
My business perspective is kind of like Steve’s
To get to my level the climb up is steep
I was in China for almost 3 weeks
I am not Kanye but this backpack rap
I’m like Mos Def yes a traveling man
Drinking my bottle big blunt in my hand
Be this way prolly til' I’m in my grave
Popping the molly the shit that I hate
Smoke like jamaic' stick to the pape
One minute that’s already late
Counting my chips like I’m Frito Lay
It’s Goyito’s way it’s the only way you pussy ass little motherfuckers still lurking

Written by:
Gregory Bret-Harte

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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