I AIN’T GOING Lyrics – GloRilla

Read the full I AIN’T GOING lyrics by GloRilla along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song.

[Intro]
Woo, GloRilla
N!gga talking ’bout putting his motherfu*king hands on me
He can bet I put his hands on his d!ck
And play with that and some motherfu*king jerseys, n!gga
What the fu*k?
On the gang, gang

[Chorus]
I ain’t going for all that ruff me up and grab me by the neck (No)
N!gga put his hands on me, we gon’ be smoking on him next
N!gga don’t even want me to walk outside, he know that I’m a threat (Huh)

Think that boy obsessed (Uh), just to get back to this text (Hey)
N!gga text my phone, talking ’bout he gon’ put his hands on me
N!gga, I ain’t going for that s*it, nah, nah, I’ma die ’bout my respect
Keep that n!gga checked (Woo) and I got a check (Woo)
Okay, you ’bout that bread (Woo), put it on your head (On the gang)

[Verse 1]
We gon’ find my brother, n!gga, must ain’t know I was jacking (The fu*k?)
But fu*k that s*it, he gon’ be in the sky next time it happen
Go and pick him out a casket, yeah, put him on the casket (Woo)
This Glock twenty-three make him sing, don’t think that I’m just rapping
Tapping in, shoot, rapping, make him dance like Michael Jackson (Okay)
These n!ggas get mad and throw a b!tch fifty, n!ggas sassy (Ugh)
I’m telling you now, this ain’t to smoke you, why don’t you better pass it?
N!gga blowing my phone down, ’cause he seen me out in Cali’
Popping s*it, like I ain’t got taxes, catch up, you slow like my lashes
Talking ’bout you gon’ put your hands on who? Your son gon’ be a ba*tard (On God)
Cuz’ gon’ kill you for free, imagine what he’ll do for that gaff (Huh?)
Ain’t even got to call nobody, I’ll beat your ass like I’m your master

[Chorus]
I ain’t going for all that ruff me up and grab me by the neck (No)
N!gga put his hands on me, we gon’ be smoking on him next
N!gga don’t even want me to walk outside, he know that I’m a threat (Huh)
Think that boy obsessed (Uh), just to get back to this text (Hey)

N!gga text my phone, talking ’bout he gon’ put his hands on me
N!gga, I ain’t going for that s*it, nah, nah, I’ma die ’bout my respect
Keep that n!gga checked (Woo) and I got a check (Woo)
Okay, you ’bout that bread (Woo), put it on your head (On the gang)

[Verse 2]
Pick your wallet, realer (Hey), I’m finna do mine bigger (Uh)
N!gga swing on me, gon’ up the ceiling with this one (Stamp that)
Put you with your deadass homies, since you say you miss ’em (Fu*k)
Can’t pay Rambo to take his mask off, he like little pistols
Gangster b!tch, this a pole I got on, me, it ain’t for sweeping
Try to hit me, I’ma show your b!tch ass you ain’t no hitter
Quick to hit a ho’, but I ain’t gon’ do s*it to them n!ggas (B!tch-ass)
Them face tattoos don’t scare me, I grew up ’round real killers, on the gang

[Chorus]
I ain’t going for all that ruff me up and grab me by the neck (No)
N!gga put his hands on me, we gon’ be smoking on him next
N!gga don’t even want me to walk outside, he know that I’m a threat (Huh)
Think that boy obsessed (Uh), just to get back to this text (Hey)
N!gga text my phone, talking ’bout he gon’ put his hands on me
N!gga, I ain’t going for that s*it, nah, nah, I’ma die ’bout my respect
Keep that n!gga checked (Woo) and I got a check (Woo)
Okay, you ’bout that bread (Woo), put it on your head (On the gang)

[Outro]
Huh, huh, huh, huh
B!tch-ass n!gga
Gon’ meet they motherfu*king maker running into me
Ho-‘ass, n!gga, this ain’t that
Fu*k wrong with you?
B!tch-ass n!gga
Huh, huh