(Waka Flocka Flame)
Uh
Uh
Aye Gucci, man
We good right now, man
Get Money Goons, man
[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
There's a white girl in town, name is Cocaine
There's some dirty birds in town: Gucci Mane & Waka Flame
We fly in, I'm buyin, say you got more birds? You lyin'
You trying and lying, you boys ain't supplyin'
I pitch like Nolan Ryan, got c**aína frying
My partners stick up kids, duct tape what they gon' tie in
In the bushes they lying in all night, that's my word
By the end of the morning, they left with them birds
But I'm gone off that purp, and I'm slurring my words
I swerved in my Benz, bang my Forgi's on the curb (Damn)
The lean, the herb, pay me like the First
You cross Brick Squad: Get hurt, I got work
Gucci!
[ Hook: Waka Flocka Flame ]
My homeboys will get you, Pay you on the Thirty-Third
Two pints of lean will have me slurring on my words
Undertaker car, triple black drop bird (Nyoom!)
Stomach full of money, so hundreds I'mma burp ('Scuze me!)
All the hoods love us like the Fifteenth and the First
Two pints of lean will have me slurring on my words
Undertaker car, triple black drop bird
Stomach full of money, so hundreds I'mma burp
All the hoods love us like the Fifteenth and the First
[ Verse 2: Waka Flocka Flame ]
Five grand for a head shot (OOH!)
Boy don't be no Flinstone and get your bedrocked, n***a
Triple red drop, offense through the parking lot
Where I'm from, young n***as shooting at the cops
Where I'm from, they thuggin' (Yuh!)
My hood right side, n***a, Green flaggin'
Lay your a** down if you do too much braggin'
Three case, Four Glocks, n***a, that's swaggin'
Uh!
Penalized, then goes the Packa-Man
What'cha hell, you would think it was a cracker-man
I don't know 'em then bah-bah-back'em man
f** 'em then! Throwin stacks in the club, what that a** do?
Every girl gettin past you
Send an ambulance on that a** I want that rent due
Robbin' every n***a that Hit Squad, Blood, or Piru
(FLOCKA!)
[Hook]
[ Verse 3: Waka Flocka Flame ]
Half a million dollar j**elry like, "f** that bird!"
n***as screaming they want beef, I'm like, "Roger that!"
My album didn't sell, so I'm laying n***as down
Shooting every n***a that burps, sneeze, or f**ing frown
[ Verse 4: YG Hootie ]
40 carats on my bracelet, my Polo black
n***as talking like they want beef, I'm wantin' that!
7 grams in the Swisher, I'm gon' solo that
Riding around with my strap like, "Where dey at?"
All these rap n***as hold us on my Philly hat
You will never be a legend like the Gucci Man
You will never be turnt up like my partner Flock
You n***as hoes I run your block when them choppers chop
Hooter
[Hook]