Letra de Big Bruddah (Don’t Be Mad) - Kevin Gates

Commission Private

Bring me in front of the boys for this one

They better gon' be mad

Major League, Puerto Rico, LA

There's a lot of them

Tell them, please don't be mad

Took what I had, left me for dead

Until I had to be finished

Came back with a Benz, it's cocaine, Bentley

Emerald cup, platinum, I did it

Diamonds twinkle, if it don't glisten

You did not get it from me

Cop drop, red interior

Yellow counter, turbo is the issue

Arch your back, wipe that ass, gloss it over

Flat-footed, lean forward, poke it out and over

Left cheek, right cheek, slowly, bend it over

Had a stress for data, they don't wanna focus on it

Baby, some of that motivation, captivate my focus

Arch your back, wipe that ass, gloss it over

Flat-footed, lean forward, poke it out and over

Left cheek, right cheek, slowly, bend it over

Had a stress for data, they don't wanna focus on it

She eat that dick off the bone, that shit real official

Sacrifices I made for niggas will probably never get mentioned

Let's get straight and then complain like we in competition

Women be more grateful, I seen gangsters turn to bitches

I thought as men we hold our own dick when we was pissing

I play the game like Killer Stone, swear to God I miss him

Bitch, I feel like Alvin Nelson when I'm in the trenches

Rocking fitteds, hop out solo with my jewelry glistening

Shout out Ox, Uptown, Busy, Booby, Black, and Menace'n

Quiet as kept, they say I'm Emilio, control the district

Who want them chickens? Grab a flock, you get a lower ticket

Hit my trap girl forwards, come and get it

Arch your back, wipe that ass, boss it off

Flat-footed, lean forward, poke it out and throw it

Left cheek, right cheek, slowly, bend it over

Had a stress for data, they don't wanna focus on it

Bae, some of that motivation, captivate my focus

Arch your back, wipe that ass, boss it off

Flat-footed, lean forward, poke it out and throw it

Left cheek, right cheek, slowly, bend it over

Had a stress for data, they don't wanna focus on it

Meet me by the shop, the eagles dropping in fifteen minutes

Hit my jacket, he pick up, he like: What up, lil' nigga?

You by the shop? He like: Yeah, I'm just chilling

Open the fence, look the garage, I'm about to pull up in it

He checked the camera when I land and meet me outside with it

Park the Porsche by the Lambo truck, right on side the Bentley

Jump in the Honda, I be solo when I handle business

Secret rooms, money counters, metal boxes, blenders

Floor safes, buco blickers, quick with drums and switches

Secret compartments, ten apartments, money to the ceiling

Reefer trailers, track the trailers, back of 18-wheelers

Decent mechanics and logistics for the trucking business

Immigrant construction workers, new construction business

I just built a house in Texas with a tunnel in it

Puedo ir a México from the tunnel entrance

You don't speak Spanish? Make it closer, you can comprehend it

I can go to México from the tunnel entrance

Lil' bitty bitch can't hurt my feelings, I got tunnel vision

All that shit I said, big brother probably wanna kill me

He say I talk too reckless in a song, I'm too descriptive

You niggas outdated, still trapping out of rentals

I'm a general for real, nigga, get up with me

Damn, they guarantee that every shipment get delivered

That's the old way, we don't put 'em in the vendor

I got the new way and I can get up in there with it

I can get up in there with it

Fuck, I had to turn off, babe, bitch, ayy, get in now!

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