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Federal Video (MV)




Performed By: SpotemGottem
Length: 2:08
Written by: Nehemiah Harden, Tevin Revells




SpotemGottem - Federal Lyrics
Official




Yeah (ayy, yo Drum, play that bitch one more)
Face shots to the face, don't trip on yo' lace
Gang, gang

When we start off, we start off with the posse (start off with the posse)
The driver, he gon' get it next, then we whack him (all right, all right)
We up the score (go) every time y'all up the score, nigga, add it up (nigga, add it up)
I see how all these rappers dickridin', they cliquin' up (they cliquin' up)
I done got rich as hell (rich as hell), I know they mad as f*ck (they mad as f*ck)
Now they love clientele, we spin the block, can't f*ck with us (can't f*ck with us)
Hold on, pick him up (hold on), I don't think he can get up (yeah, yeah, f*ck)
Push up on 'em, let the window down, watch the whole car freeze up (it freeze up)
Her ass up, her knees down (come on), face forward, let me f*ck (let me f*ck)
These niggas been rappin' more than ten years, still ain't came up (still ain't came up)
Your shorties got knocked, they tryna blame us (they tryna blame us)
Time to f*ck with them, made them lil' f*ck niggas famous (made them niggas famous)
He got blood all on his wife-beater now that f*ck nigga brainless
He was unidentified, now they can't even name him
He made a left, I bust a right, I'm tryna hit him from a angle
I had told them to wait, I'ma f*ckin' put some pain to 'em, haha

Trolls questioning me about shooters
Never told 'em shit, you know how I do it (f*ck 'em)
If I did I would've been locked up, is you f*ckin' stupid? (Only to myself)
I'm beefin' with some of my brothers 'cause they wanna be groupies ('cause they wanna be ho's)
(Go, you know it) juvenile, I was in the Nile (I was in the Nile)
I'ma keep pushin' these court dates, yeah, I'll take it to trial (I'll take it to trial)
Them 308's sound like 808's, you hit 'em and them bitches loud
Reach for any chain on the stage, we gon' shoot out in the crowd (we gon' shoot it down)
Wokiana all in my cup, taste like Kool-Aid
Dropped a four in the Fanta, I like how it taste
Mix it up, don't know which one I'ma drank today (which one I'ma drank today)
Switch it up, don't know which glick that I'ma tote today (I don't know what I'ma tote today)
Shootin' shit up, right before we turn off from the E-Way (turn off from the E-Way, you know)
Lord forgive, I'm finna send this nigga to another place (I send him to the grave)
Throw that bag on him, lil' bro smash on him (smash, go)
Dropped a bag on him (go), SOS on him (SOS on him)
They say money on my head
Pop my collar, I'm too smooth for this shit like Uncle Sted
Hop in this bitch, go federal
I think that's what the money bag said

I think that's what the bag said
I think that's just what the bag said
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




Yeah (ayy, yo Drum, play that bitch one more)
Face shots to the face, don't trip on yo' lace
Gang, gang

When we start off, we start off with the posse (start off with the posse)
The driver, he gon' get it next, then we whack him (all right, all right)
We up the score (go) every time y'all up the score, nigga, add it up (nigga, add it up)
I see how all these rappers dickridin', they cliquin' up (they cliquin' up)
I done got rich as hell (rich as hell), I know they mad as f*ck (they mad as f*ck)
Now they love clientele, we spin the block, can't f*ck with us (can't f*ck with us)
Hold on, pick him up (hold on), I don't think he can get up (yeah, yeah, f*ck)
Push up on 'em, let the window down, watch the whole car freeze up (it freeze up)
Her ass up, her knees down (come on), face forward, let me f*ck (let me f*ck)
These niggas been rappin' more than ten years, still ain't came up (still ain't came up)
Your shorties got knocked, they tryna blame us (they tryna blame us)
Time to f*ck with them, made them lil' f*ck niggas famous (made them niggas famous)
He got blood all on his wife-beater now that f*ck nigga brainless
He was unidentified, now they can't even name him
He made a left, I bust a right, I'm tryna hit him from a angle
I had told them to wait, I'ma f*ckin' put some pain to 'em, haha

Trolls questioning me about shooters
Never told 'em shit, you know how I do it (f*ck 'em)
If I did I would've been locked up, is you f*ckin' stupid? (Only to myself)
I'm beefin' with some of my brothers 'cause they wanna be groupies ('cause they wanna be ho's)
(Go, you know it) juvenile, I was in the Nile (I was in the Nile)
I'ma keep pushin' these court dates, yeah, I'll take it to trial (I'll take it to trial)
Them 308's sound like 808's, you hit 'em and them bitches loud
Reach for any chain on the stage, we gon' shoot out in the crowd (we gon' shoot it down)
Wokiana all in my cup, taste like Kool-Aid
Dropped a four in the Fanta, I like how it taste
Mix it up, don't know which one I'ma drank today (which one I'ma drank today)
Switch it up, don't know which glick that I'ma tote today (I don't know what I'ma tote today)
Shootin' shit up, right before we turn off from the E-Way (turn off from the E-Way, you know)
Lord forgive, I'm finna send this nigga to another place (I send him to the grave)
Throw that bag on him, lil' bro smash on him (smash, go)
Dropped a bag on him (go), SOS on him (SOS on him)
They say money on my head
Pop my collar, I'm too smooth for this shit like Uncle Sted
Hop in this bitch, go federal
I think that's what the money bag said

I think that's what the bag said
I think that's just what the bag said
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Nehemiah Harden, Tevin Revells
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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