Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Gucci Mane
Gucci Mane
Vocals
Waka Flocka Flame
Waka Flocka Flame
Vocals
YG Hootie
YG Hootie
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
J. Malphurs
J. Malphurs
Songwriter
Joshua Luellen
Joshua Luellen
Songwriter
Lamar Joseph
Lamar Joseph
Songwriter
Radric Delantic Davis
Radric Delantic Davis
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kori Anders
Kori Anders
Mixing Engineer
Gucci Mane
Gucci Mane
Executive Producer
Southside
Southside
Producer
Waka Flocka Flame
Waka Flocka Flame
Executive Producer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Uh
Uh
Ay, Gucc' Mane
We good right now, man
Give mine the goods, man
[Verse 2]
It's a white girl in town, name is cocaine
It's some dirty birds in town, Gucci Mane and Waka Flame
We fly in, I'm buyin', say you got more birds, you lyin'
You tryin' and lyin', you boys ain't supplyin'
I pitch like Nolan Ryan, got cocaína fryin'
My partners stick up kids, duct tape rope they gon' tie in
In the bushes they lied in all night, that's my word
By the end of the mornin', they left with them birds
And I'm gone off that purp, and I'm slurrin' my words
I swerved in my Benz, banged my Forgi's on the curb
The lean, the herb, pay me like the first
You cross Bricksquad, get hurt, I got work, Gucci
[Verse 3]
My homeboys'll get you, pay you on the thirty-third
Two pints of lean'll have me slurrin' on my words
Undertaker car, triple black drop bird
Stomach full of money, so hunnids I'ma burp
All the hoods love us like the 15th and the 1st
Two pints of lean'll have me slurrin' on my words
Undertaker car, triple black drop bird
Stomach full of money, so hunnids I'ma burp
All the hoods love us like the 15th and the 1st
[Verse 4]
Five grand for a head shot
Boy, don't be no Flintstone and get your bed rocked, ****
Triple red drop, all saints through the pop 'n' lock
Where I'm from, young **** shootin' at the cops
Where I'm from, they thuggin'
My hood right side, ****, green flaggin'
Lay your ass down if you do too much braggin'
Three Ks, four Glocks, ****, that's swaggin', uh
Penalized, then goes the Packer-Man
Rich as hell, you would think I was a cracker, man
I don't know 'em, get ba-ba-back 'em, man, fuck 'em, then
Throwin' stacks in the club, what that ass do?
Every girl gettin' past you
Shake that ass, bump that ass, some of that rent due
Robbin' every **** that ain't Hit Squad, Blood, or Piru
Flocka
[Verse 5]
My homeboys'll get you, pay you on the thirty-third
Two pints of lean'll have me slurrin' on my words
Undertaker car, triple black drop bird
Stomach full of money, so hunnids I'ma burp
All the hoods love us like the 15th and the 1st
Two pints of lean'll have me slurrin' on my words
Undertaker car, triple black drop bird
Stomach full of money, so hunnids I'ma burp
All the hoods love us like the 15th and the 1st
[Verse 6]
Half a million dollar, jury like, fuck that bird
**** screamin' they want beef, I'm like, roger that
My album didn't sell, so I'm layin' **** down
Shootin' every **** that burp, sneeze, or fuckin' frown
[Verse 7]
Forty carats on my bracelet, my Polo black
**** talkin' like they want beef, I'm wantin' that
Seven grams in the Swisher, I'm gon' solo that
Ridin' around with my strap like, where they at?
All these rap ****, ho, that's on my Philly hat
You will never be a legend like the Gucci Mane
You will never be turnt up like my partner Flock
You **** hoes, I run your block when them choppers chop
Hoot up
[Verse 8]
My homeboys'll get you, pay you on the thirty-third
Two pints of lean'll have me slurrin' on my words
Undertaker car, triple black drop bird
Stomach full of money, so hunnids I'ma burp
All the hoods love us like the 15th and the 1st
Two pints of lean'll have me slurrin' on my words
Undertaker car, triple black drop bird
Stomach full of money, so hunnids I'ma burp
All the hoods love us like the 15th and the 1st
Written by: J. Luellen, J. Malphurs, L. Joseph, R. Davis
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