I ont Really

[Intro: Scotty ATL & B.o.B] (KE on the Track) Bob, what up, man? What's up, fool? (These niggas out here hustlin' for approval) You know, I don't really fuck with these niggas, man Well, fuck 'em, tuh (Real nigga ain't ever 'posed to hustle for approval) Talk to 'em talk to 'em, talk to 'em (Scotty ATL, fool) [Verse 1: Scotty ATL] Two, three times had to fall on my face Damn, you 'posed to be a nigga I can trust You ain't never 'posed to let a real nigga fall I recall you was schemin' on the niggas in your own in the circle You were lying on the internet, boy These niggas lame, talking real shit, niggas ain't real You just tryna come up on a nigga, I can feel Told 'em I ain't fucking with these niggas, I'ma focus on my own shit Cool Club for life, had the suit on Kanye Give a fuck 'bout all that Finna turn like car keys (Turn up) With a bad bitch and a cup full of Cognac Call Twelve, this a carjack I be ridin' like I'm motherfuckin' trained to park valet With the Swisher full of Cali Yeah, I need that, these niggas want my last nerve Who you trying to impress? You be trickin' off your old check, y'all niggas ain't ball like We can can see it on your IG You be, trying too hard, you don't even live your own life Get in line, I can teach that Take over time, give 'em head like MJ Put some clear in the OJ, RIP my nigga OJ They ain't know I don't really fuck with these niggas [Chorus: Scotty ATL] Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas I don't really fuck with these niggas, I don't fuck with these niggas Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas I don't really fuck with these niggas, i don't fuck with these niggas Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas [Verse 2: Scotty ATL] Show a nigga love, I was shitted on (Shitted on) Now I'm Hollywood, now I ball like fuck 'em Need to cut the tees out the top of the Culli', they can see me They can see me hold a motherfuckin' semi Double X-L even Complex, no radio On tour getting good dough Meeting tightwads All they know about the pudding, but hey don't know about hood though Give her foot long, I'm just tryna get the long bread Get your ass out my pathway In the fast lane chasing paper like a maniac Man, we struggled way too long Want a Lambo' just to ride Wanna feel like Ace Boog' on the good part And the good Lord, help me blow and help me getting rich Help me make it real, real far Know this one thing, niggas act like they wanna see Like they wanna see you take off Never for them, so I grind, I ain't letting up I ain't taking no days off We were cool with them, but they were hating, I can feel it They were hating, I can feel it I'ma make 'em look bad, jealous all of that, boy Watch a real nigga kill it, ayy [Chorus: Scotty ATL] Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas I don't really fuck with these niggas, I don't fuck with these niggas Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas I don't really fuck with these niggas, i don't fuck with these niggas Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas [Verse 3: B.o.B] Man, I feel like fuck these niggas I ain't really feeling nan' one of these niggas I'm worldwide, boy, you just a one street nigga MLB ballin', Barry Bond league hitters I ain't got– I ain't got no handout for these niggas But lyrically I'ma make examples out of niggas They gon' fuck around and pull Atlanta out a nigga They don't get it to tell I whip the Lamo' out on niggas Yeah, catch heat, make a camel out a nigga They gon' swear they got the Rambo out to get 'em What the fuck you fantasizing, nigga? It ain't real beef unless they pullin' ammo out of niggas How can niggas even think they on my level (On my level) When ain't too many niggas thinking on my level? (All over) Take a minute, nigga, think of something clever If it's numbers to this shit I'm going meta I won't say I'm a vet Just somewhere 'tween the best and ahead of the rest Next level finesse, heavy metal possessed Bullshit to my right, pulpit to my left That ain't neither here nor there, nevertheless Just tell your friend bring a lighter, it's on Both my eyes low like Cheech and Chong Bobby Ray Bands in your camera phone If I ain't on your TV, boy, you got the channel wrong [Chorus: Scotty ATL] Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas I don't really fuck with these niggas, I don't fuck with these niggas Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas I don't really fuck with these niggas, i don't fuck with these niggas Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas