All enter the competition. - BET, Gangsta and DJ. - Wow, what's up? - Salute to the DJ. Salute the Gangsta Grillz. (SINGING) Nice. - DJ Drama! (SINGING) You what's up
girl, ain't gotta ask it. I dead 'em all now,
I buy the caskets. They should arrest you
or whoever dressed you. Ain't gon' stress you,
but I'ma let you know. Girl, you be killing 'em. Hey, you be killing 'em. Girl, you be killing them. You be killing 'em. Girl, you be killing 'em. You be killing 'em.
Girl, You be killing 'em.
Talk
to 'em. That's all. O-oh. You ain't got to worry
about her, Shorty, straight. Been chasing her for
two days, first 48. A bad chick cost,
she worth every cent. She look like the best
money that I ever spent. Just watching my
cutiepie get beautified Make me want better
jewels, a newer ride. Louboutin shoes, she
got too much pride. What we call it? Her feet are killing her. I call it shoe-icide. Looking good has
its sacrifices. Chilly weather bring
four-figure jacket prices. Her body nice, face dim
e. Give you that iPhone, what? Tell them FaceTime. Shorty in the streets,
still handle the home. Enough class for wine,
still handle Patron. When them other hoes call,
I hand her the phone. And she hand 'em the tone. Hey, hey. - Bank it. - Now, we could not rep
20 years of trap music. - Yeah. - We are the A-Town. It's the king. (SINGING) Hey! I just keep coming near. Do it 50 more times. Tell 'em to go for five. In the air, go for nine. Still in the trap with
them right down down. OK. Hit me on
the hip any time. I don't mind. While y'all bitch and moan
and whine, I'ma grind. Uh-huh. Stack it in the winter. In the summer, I'ma shine. What you say? There's plenty of money
to be made, the bank. There's plenty of
room to get paid for those that ain't scared. You know what going on. It's the king. - 20th anniversary
of trap music. - Hey. - DJ Drama, T.I.P. ["RUBBER BAND MAN" PLAYING]
And who I'm is? Rubber band man. Wild as the Taliban. Nine in my right,
forty-five in my other hand. Who I'm
is? Call me trouble man,
always in trouble man. Worth a couple hundred grand,
Chevys, all colors, man. Rubber band man,
like a one-man band. Treat any rappers like
the Apollo, and I'm the-- Tote a hundred grand
Canon in the waistband. Look'n for a sweet lick? This is the wrong place. Let's go. What I care about a K. OK. Campaign in the parada,
hey, so say you're great. Right. Talk about no-- I said in his face. Right. Hey, hey, hey, hey,
hey, hey, hey, hey. My record's impeccable. Anywhere in t
he A, highly
respectable, anti MIA. Keep it professional. We are the A-Town. Have me stepping up, and
from the bottom of the duva, clack-a-lackin in New York. Everybody showing me love. It weren't for you all. - T.I. - 20 years of trap music. - Yes, sir. - 50 years of hip hop. - It's the King.
- Yeah. Who with me? [CHEERING, APPLAUSE] - Now, when we talk
about "Gangsta Grillz," it's a particular artist,
it's a particular mixtape. It's called "Till
You Die," right? ["TRAP OR DIE" PLAYING] Last ti
me I checked, I was
the man on these streets. Yeah. [CHEERING, APPLAUSE] Last time I checked, I was
the man on these streets. They call me Residue, I
leave blow in these beats. Got that diarrhea flow. Now, even when I'm
constipated, I still-- I still got some super
in the Legion of Doom. I ain't blowing purple-- that keep me high
like the moon. Yeah. I'm an affiliate. I know hitmen. I'm a hater like you. My wrist then. Be dissing, but that
ain't how we play. [MUTED] with mine, get
the drama like
the DJ. Now tell me, this AR that
I'm holding on to, gangsta. ["GET YA MIND RIGHT" PLAYING] I'm the realest in it. You already know that
I'm trapper of the year four times in a row. What they give you? A lifetime supply of
baking soda clientele. A Rolley watch, two
pots, and three scales. Can get about 50 in the Hummer. The birds fly down south
to Georgia for the summer. Yeah. Look, it go, money,
hoes, cars, clothes. Coke prices up and
down like '64S (chea). Yeah. Just 'cause I'm fly
like a hel
icopter, the federales on my tail. Call them birdwatchers. Ayy. Minus the bull-
[MUTED],, life's great. Just got a camera on the
peach in my license plate. Let me talk to 'em. What it do? What the business is? Word on the street, Jeezy
known to handle his. Get your mind right,
let me talk to 'em. Get your mind right,
let me talk to 'em. Gangsta Grillz. [CHEERING, APPLAUSE] - Wait, hold on,
hold on, hold on. It wouldn't be "Gangsta
Grillz" without Miista Gangsta Grillz himself. - Yeah! Gangsta Gr
illz!
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