REASON – Gina! (August Alsina) Lyrics

Gina! (August Alsina) Lyrics by REASON

[Intro]
Yeah, yeah

[Chorus]
Hopped out diva, head like Gina, mix Margarita, yeah, yeah
Check like FEMA, whip John Cena, white lil’ creeper, yeah, yeah
Hot like fever, fuckin’ on cougar like August Alsina
Young rich nigga stand tall, I’m a leader
Hit right, spot now she yellin’ out, “Eureka”

[Post-Chorus]
Yeah, haunted while I drive, I think this bitch a ghost
Yeah, fuck her ’til she cry, I like my chickens soaked
Yeah, blow a bag, I can’t have my bitches broke
Gettin’ head while I drive, I love my bitch for sure, yeah

[Verse 1]
Kicked in the gates
She don’t even like a nigga but the money long, so she slid for the bait
Know the ass real, you can tell by the waist
Headed to the wealth, I ain’t even gotta chase
Headed where I’m headed, I ain’t even gotta fake
Vacay home with the view, got a lake
Tyron Woodley, we was runnin’ from jakes
Glowed up ballin’, I can’t call it
Came through early, y’all still yawnin’
Wrist in the dark but the lights keep glowin’
Will I be rich? Bitch, is ice still frozen?
Kites still flyin’? Mike still Jordan?
Money keep comin’, money counter keep countin’
I can tell them niggas fraud
Came from the ghetto, bitch
Blewed up here, we livin’ large

[Chorus]
Hopped out diva, head like Gina, mix Margarita, yeah, yeah
Check like FEMA, whip John Cena, white lil’ creeper, yeah, yeah
Hot like fever, fuckin’ on cougar like August Alsina
Young rich nigga stand tall, I’m a leader
Hit right, spot now she yellin’ out, “Eureka”

[Interlude]
First of all, we need doctors, lawyers, fast food workers, burger flippers
Like, I’m tryna understand why everybody wanna be a fuckin’ rapper

[Verse 2]
Ayy, triple my work just to double the salary
Bitches doubted, now they tell me they proud of me
Burn these niggas, treat the comp like they calories
Love me a Keisha, won’t catch me with Mallory, greatest undoubtedly
You can’t walk a mile in mine, you get calluses
Top Dawg, take a trip to these palaces
Ghetto queen with the sage, I like balances
Speakin’ of balances, my checks got too many O’s
Give a fuck ’bout a ho, nigga, give a fuck ’bout a ho, nigga
Fuck a gold digger, she don’t leave with no gold with her
Send her back to her old nigga
I’m a road killer, head shotter, slow kill ’em
Leave the body there covered roses
Seen you niggas, take a look at your homies
Vogue niggas, your whole circle is posers
Take the last shot, my circle is closers
Too much real, life a movie, I’m focused
Sleep ’em and wake ’em up, hit ’em with Folgers, Reas’ here
Niggas ain’t done enough, treat whoever runnin’ shit like a runner-up
Bucks comin’, this a ride, I’ma buckle up
Please be honest, I’m shinin’, I’m polished, I’m climbin’, I’m climbin’, I’m..
[Outro]
I know like it’s lit and all but damn we still need doctors, lawyers, and burger fuckin’ flippers
The fuck?
June 2011