[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]

I want?

I'm a Vet not a Rookie, can't go out like no pussy

Can't let no nigga push me, I take a nigga cookies

I heard you got a truck wit a hundred pounds in it (In it)

So I got my chopper wit da hundred rounds in it (In it)

Damn, that's some real talk, fuck what your clique thought

Throwing up them Es, like GD’s ?

Why you brangin games up, damn you done come up

Military trained up, almost famous

Gucci got a sick flow, all he wear is rose gold

Tryna get a deal, but all I got was closed doors

Now I'm the Co-CEO, Imma sign my damn self

Nigga out of line, Imma beat him with a fan belt

Burn him with a hot iron, fuck him with a broomstick

Go out, dick his main bitch, just for tryna talk shit

Gucci keep it gutter, man, all I do is hustle, man

I'll duct tape take your mama, man, pistol whip your brother, man

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]

Drop it off before I have to make you come and drop it off

Take it off before I have to make you come and take it off

Drop it off before I have to make you come and drop it off

Take it off before I have to make you come and take it off

Drop it off before I have to make you come and drop it off

Take it off before I have to make you come and take it off

Drop it off before I have to make you come and drop it off

Take it off before I have to make you come and take it off

[Verse 2: Eva Trill]

Take it off, drop it off, before I got to break you off

Hollow points in my Trey special, rollin with ?

So obvious you fake and floss, I promise you goin take a loss

You die before you hit the top, you and whoever you brought

Niggas still thinkin they're Pac, until them bullets collapse their lungs

He ain't talkin out bout them guns, when we start clappin them guns

Hangin niggas over the edge, is you gon' fly?

It's murder murder murder, nigga, killed or be killed and niggas kill yourself

Homicide, suicide, genocide, you decide

Fuck that unified have my money, my nigga you gon die

I hate to do it to you, but I do you and your cuttie pie

Right where you reside, brought that paper, ain't no fake

Cuz is hard times, in these hard streets

I keep a hard 9 and you don't wanna meet

See deep inside know I'm supposed to be my brother's keeper

So go on drop that money off, so we don't have to see ya

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]

Drop it off before I make you come and drop it off

Take it off, before I have to make you come and take it off

Drop it off before I have to make you come and drop it off

Take it off before I have to make you come and take it off

Drop it off before I have to make you come and drop it off

Take it off before I have to make you come and take it off

Drop it off before I have to make you come and drop it off

Take it off before I have to make you come and take it off