[Intro]
Yahhhhhhh, it's Gucci!
Birds, go!
Birds, it's Dirty, Birds
It's Gucci
[Gucci Mane]
I'm an East Atlanta rider
You gon' f** around and get ya whole clique tied up
My brain fried; I'm on the skull of the Impala
I'm high on kush, it's 'bout my money mixed with power
So keep it brief
n***a, two hundred thousand in the fleece
Pistols, two hundred twenty on the dash
System, I pull off it look like a flash
Picture, cheeeeeese!
I got the 24's, those 74 for 2's
When you was on the stage, Gucci was on the news
But b**h don't pity me, I look like Mr. T
I pimp like Soulja Slim, but I think I'm Eazy-E
It's Gucci
[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
Patty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakes
I touched down with hash browns and serve 'em with the pancakes
Patty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakes
Got flapjacks, hash browns and syrup in my crack space
Patty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakes
I touched down with hash browns and serve 'em with the pancakes
Patty cake, patty cake, I serve you n***az pancakes
Flapjacks, hash browns and syrup in my crack space
It's Gucci
[Waka Flocka Flame]
I'm the young n***a all the old head love dawg (FLOCKA!)
I ain't lettin sh** slide, this ain't baseball (BRICK SQUAAAD!)
Banned in 45 states cause I'm too real
Waka Flocka like a Gucci album, I'm hard to k**
I don't think they f**in with me whether I'm locked dead or in jail
I'm from Clayon County, Riverdale so I'm supposed to give 'em hell
I'm aware the gra** got snakes, I'm aware they gon' hate
You too late, I'll be damned you take this dinner off our plate
Dirty Birds, Dirty Birds, twenty-one gun salute and got k**ed
It's Bankhead Brick Squad out in U.K., these n***az ain't f**in with me
Mob up off that run day, SK's, AK's
Throwaways I let that triple up like {?} triple beam we crackin
[Chorus]
[8Ball]
Gucci Mane, Waka Flocka and ya boy big Ball
Hard from the start; I ain't never been no f**in lame
Here I go with Waka Flocka, here I go with Gucci Mane
One of a kind - that Memphis 10 runnin through my bloodstream
Ghetto superstar - man them hood b**hes love me
Cup full of that ol' purple drank, pullin on some of that stanky dank
Pocket full of Benny Frank and b**h, what the f** you thank?
45 hollowheads in my stout, yellow purt{?}
I hope one of these ol' b**h b**h-a** n***az don't cross that line and get hurt
Money what we came to get, money what we represent
You ain't talkin 'bout sh** if you ain't talkin 'bout gettin it
Hard hustle never fold, forever I will be cold
Forever I will be big Ball, mouth full of gold
[Chorus]