Zaytoven
Gucci Mane, Gucci Mane, Gucci Mane, Gucci Mane, Gucci Mane, Gucci (Yeah)
Wizop, the Wizop, the Wizop, the Wizop, the Wizop, the- (Wop)
Gucci, the Gucci, the Gucci, the Gucci Guwop, oh, the Gucci (Wop)
(Hah, Gucci)

God keep coverin' me with drip, I think he tryna smother me (On God)
They stopped me at the border, had too many felonies
I'm splashin', I ain't even drippin' (Splashin')
Laughin', I ain't even trippin' (Haha)
I'm crashin', I ain't even dissin' (Crash)
Heard you drop somethin', I ain't even listen
No one realer, triller, street gorilla
I pull up like Chauncey Billups
Nigga don't gas me, I don't need a fill up
Pick her up and make her suck my dick 'til she hiccup
Wop lookin' slim like a bicycle rim
But his bank obese, and his pockets on chubby
He'll play head coach just like Lovie
Thuggin' in public, these hoes love it
I double and triple, quadruple your budget
Baseball money like David Justice (Money)
Whole load sold, I ain't even touched it (It's sold)
Under arm Kush, damn the room so musty
Most of you rappers all style, no substance
Big ol' rocks on, they disgustin'
Niggas talk but never touch me (Nah)
Broke haters can't tell me nothin'

Fuck 'em (Woo, woo, woo, who?)
Yeah, this that Meek Mill, Gucci Mane (Gucci Mane)
Y'all niggas swingin' through F&Ns
They gon' come right back to you like a boomerang (Brrr)
Louis and Saint Laurent drip (Drip)
Pimp on these bitches like Pootie Tang (Pimpin')
He wanna be 'bout that bitch
But we all fuckin' her, so he don't know who to blame
She wanna check from me, uh (Check)
She gotta check for me, uh (Check)
Fuckin' the two baddest bitches off Instagram, they on that ecstasy (Aw, hey)
Hey, diamonds like Voss, and I got the sauce, I mix up the recipe (Woah)
'Fore all this rappin' shit, I was a trapper, the plug gon' invest in me (Woah)
Jumped out the porch, I got a Porsche
Too many hitters, they can't extort
I take a mil' to table, no fork
Then split it up with my dawg like divorce
They shot at us, it was by force
We shot at them, they went to court
I don't wan' be with these niggas no more
I can't even be with these niggas no more
Shorty said she only fuck trappers (Trappers)
End up fuckin' with a rapper (For real?)
Damn, bitch, how you goin' backwards? (Damn)
Diamonds on froze like Alaska (Freezin')
That ain't even none of my bidness (Bidness)
Put your face down and your ass up (Back down)
I am preachin' to you like the pastor
I'ma keep runnin' these bands up (Yeah)

Bands up, bands up, bands up, bands up
Bands up, bands up, bands up, bands up
All these diamonds on me make me handsome
Shawty fuckin' on me like a dancer
Bands up, bands up, bands up, bands up
Bands up, bands up, bands up, bands up
Went from a trapper to rapper
Damn, bitch, how you goin' backwards? (Hah)

Wow, I thought I was proud of you, but I take it back
You know what I'm saying?
Where your whips at? Where your titles at? Huh?
Where your shooters at?
Thought you had a plug, but you had a scrub
Damn

Copyright: Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Radric Delantic Davis, Robert Rihmeek Williams, Xavier Dotson