"Keep It Gutta" is an unreleased song by Stack Bundles featuring Lupe Fiasco. They created the song early in the 1st & 15th days.
Lyrics[]
[Verse 1: Stack Bundles]
[?] when they think drought
Got the fishscale
Rubber grip, pistol
Pop, like it's Cristal
Rich lip wow, [?] with the criss-cut
I don't fuck with the [?] wake up
Had to struggle to get my weight up
Left lane, left lane now they want me to wait up
Can't slow my pace, no time to waste
[?] who the fuck face-to-face
Gotta embrace the hate with this life of mine
Y'all wanna raise the stakes put your life on the line
Mine's is real
Stack Bun' signed and sealed
Got a mean watch game, keep the ice real
[?] I don't like talking
And I keep some hot wheels
Bitches catch feelings when I'm walking
Bop too gangster, Glock too heavy
No more turnovers I got Far Rock steady
[Hook]
I keep it gutter like
I keep it gutter like
I keep it gutter like
I keep it gutter like
[Verse 2: Lupe Fiasco]
You can see me, low key in a Ford
No keys, the doors open like grocery stores
Or see me four-fifthin
I had you n***as pourin liquor out like it's prohibition
The piece that speaks for itself
And the row I gotta mention the flow that's tension
No flinching
Pop benching with them 245s
Or a large shipment moving pies like FOIs
Y'all don't know though
I'm the illest crime caught on tape since Caine and O-Dog
And I won't talk, even if I'm caught red-handed
Like don't walk, I flip it with no thoughts
Shit on, everything you big on
The faces with no cases
[?] clip ons
You can talk until you blue in the face
But you can pause it, if you ain't bluish in the face
[Hook]
I keep it gutter like
I keep it gutter like
I keep it gutter like
I keep it gutter like
[Verse 3: Stack Bundles]
Red n***as got hate in they veins
I clap n***as leave hate in they brain
Let me teach ya
The hood n***as call me Roger
'Cause I'm flooded in carrots
And I floss every day like it's Easter
The beats the reason I rhyme
Streets the reason I grind
And I don't need heat to shine
'Cause I didn't when y'all oppress me
End up dead or missing like Elvis Presley
[Verse 4: Lupe Fiasco]
You know I keep a chick topless, keep my whip topless
Keep my spit toxic
You keep it in the closet
[?] things can get un-pretty
Like bars left from Chilly
For the sake I hope I keep everything quaker oats, real gritty
Or 3-0-50
On the rocks like Whitney
Filthy, [?] like spittin dutch and gillie
Close, but no Philly
[Hook]
I keep it gutter like
I keep it gutter like
I keep it gutter like
I keep it gutter like
I keep it gutter like
I keep it gutter like
I keep it gutter like
I keep it gutter like