Lyrics
Now hot damb, heavy creeses on my pants
You can tell how I stand
With my Gucci duffle bag
You don't want to see me mad
I'll have to pull the strap
Out my Gucci duffle bag i'm bout my swag
See rubber bands in my Gucci duffle bag
And I don't want to brag
I could fit a hundred carots
In my Gucci duffle bag
Feds hot, they on my ass, gotta shake 'm off
They wanna half me on the go
They get shaken off
Hoe, they been off, I'm bout
To do a major cost, shoppin on the lot
Know I'm scrapen paper off windows, etc
Pillos and extras gs will respect us
Or we'll make it treacherous
That's what we do, ever play Tetris
Or better yet Grand Theft
Shootin up your Lexis once was the half not
Till we start progressin fuck goin half now
We want this whole section
South side, we wrecklis
Columbine F ones, specials
With the dollar sign sketches
Niggas bout to hate us
My lawyer never call back
My case never came up
So it's time to blaze up
Streets, they don't want that
Guess you wanna blame us
When you see us, you need Jesus to save us
Now hot damb, heavy creeses on my pants
You can tell how I stand
With my Gucci duffle bag
You don't want to see me mad
I'll have to pull the strap
Out my Gucci duffle bag i'm bout my swag
See rubber bands in my Gucci duffle bag
And I don't want to brag
I could fit a hundred carots
In my Gucci duffle bag
I got Gucci on the armrest, next to a freak
Walkin through the projects
With Gucci on my feet
I put Gucci on the seet
When I customise the Vert
Unzip the top, my car look like a perse
I'm up in Gucci
Poppin tags in my Gucci glasses
I leave with two hoes
And put them in the Jag
My duffle full of purple
With them Gs on the side
So now I'm like, fuck you
I got Gs on my side
Seven four five, four fives inside
Eat speghetti on the selli
With Parelli on the time
I count fetti on the telli
Watchin Belly or The Wire
And my belly all tatted
Like I bairly ever tired
If you need some money, hoe
Magic City hiring
And if there is demand, we will supply it
See, I'm the man, if I like it, I buy it
But I ain't none of your man, bitch
Stop lyin
Now hot damb, heavy creeses on my pants
You can tell how I stand
With my Gucci duffle bag
You don't want to see me mad
I'll have to pull the strap
Out my Gucci duffle bag i'm bout my swag
See rubber bands in my Gucci duffle bag
And I don't want to brag
I could fit a hundred carots
In my Gucci duffle bag
You niggas don't take me serious
You niggas goin make me furious
I be in something so luxurious
Your bitch is lookin at my jewelry
Cocaine, no, you see me with that high dro
Just another misdemeanor for the five O
Fuck another family, just up in the tiho
Member me and Lil G, up in Chicago
We keep them pipes breathin, Gucci
In the Rolls gold, the flow seepin
You see a couple of hoes, stealin
You pop beas, the don piece for no reason
At home, millions in fetti, no treason
It don't have no meanin, you is not speakin
Yeah, now let a nigga try to fuck with that
Cause Shawnna got a couple jabs
In my duffle bag
Now hot damb, heavy creeses on my pants
You can tell how I stand
With my Gucci duffle bag
You don't want to see me mad
I'll have to pull the strap
Out my Gucci duffle bag i'm bout my swag
See rubber bands in my Gucci duffle bag
And I don't want to brag
I could fit a hundred carots
In my Gucci duffle bag
WRITERS
JEAN MAX BORGES, RASHAWNNA GUY, MICHAEL EPPS, EARL CONYERS
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Reservoir Media Management, Inc.
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LyricIQ Analysis
Top Emotion
Sadness
Sentiment
Theme
Race and ethnicity
