F-U (Fuck You)

[Chorus: Yo Gotti] Fuck you, fuck you Fuck you, fuck you (Tell a hater I said) Fuck you, fuck you (Pussy) Fuck you, fuck you (Tell your bitch I said) [Verse 1: Yo Gotti] Me, ass up, face down One night only, I'm from out of town Pound, new rules, we ain't waiting on it And if that pussy good, we spend cake on it Plane ticket, hotel, new bag, new Chanel Giuseppe sneakers, his and hers If you a hater, I just got two words [Chorus: Yo Gotti] Fuck you, fuck you Fuck you, fuck you (Tell a hater I said) Fuck you, fuck you Fuck you, fuck you (And tell your bitch I said) [Verse 2: Yo Gotti] You, and them bitches that you came with All in my section drinking my shit You ain't fucking, you ain't sucking, what you doing, ho? Instagram and taking pictures, you don't know me, though Damn, she said she a fan Yeah, I understand, but I want to get in her pants 'Cause she thick as fuck 'cause she licking her tongue out She said she don't fuck with rappers I'm like, "what you talking about, bitch?" [Chorus: Yo Gotti] Fuck you, fuck you Fuck you, fuck you (I got two words for you) Fuck you, fuck you Fuck you, fuck you (Tell a hater I said) [Verse 3: Meek Mill] Oh, I said fuck 'em, I don't like 'em, I don't love 'em When the money come, homies turn to haters, I don't trust 'em If the brick ain't coming with a stamp, I don't touch it I want that BMF with the Scorpio when I'm bustin' Like a bitch when she twerkin', y'all niggas workin' Clown-ass niggas, we should put you in the circus In the cage with the lion, let him have you for dessert And testifying on your homie, took a deal, but was it worth it, nigga? I met this bitch, she said "my friend, she want to fuck you" I like your friend, but really, though, I wanna fuck you And if I get my roadie, though, he gotta to fuck too Now put your middle fingers up and scream [Verse 4: Yo Gotti] Haters, nigga mad at the paper Big crib, ten cars, twenty acres Twenty chains, ten watches, I'm a jewler Lil' watch with the chips, don't let it fool you I could school you on how to look like money Hustler of the year, could write a book 'bout money Don't pop them bottles tryna impress them hoes With your re-up money better tell them hoes, bitch [Chorus: Yo Gotti] Fuck you, fuck you Fuck you, fuck you (Tell a bitch I said) Fuck you, fuck you Fuck you, fuck you (Tell a hater I said)