Released on September 14, 2010

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[Intro]

Yeah, my check

Yeah

Gucci


[Verse 1]

Started out with blood money

50k in drugs on me

Drop Chevy, put thugs on me

Just pulled up in the club homey

We just put my thugs on it

Homeboy getting his mug on

Hey, I wanna get my buzz on

Fuck around, I'll put my gloves on

Say no robbin', how I eat

B.C 32, that's my street

Brick Squad runners ten million deep

I'm trying to sell ten billion ki's

Fuck what a bitch boy say to me

AK 'n AR stay with' me

Mac 99 not far away my dogs don't even play with me

In my apartment, 80 a piece

Stack a piece, 80 G's

Old school donk parked right out front

Off set shots, 73

You say he's a trapper, please

I hang around with a gang of thieves

They probably charge 200 G's then sell your ass a sack of leaves

Gucci Mane, fuck Uncle Sam

Dead drunk like my Uncle Coke

Touch my brother Duke and I'll cock and shoot or cut your throat

Gucci Mane, fuck Uncle Sam

Dead drunk like my Uncle Coke

Fuck around, touch my brother Duke and I'll cock and shoot or cut your throat


[Chorus]

My cookers made a 50 pack, I ran straight through it

Doin' numbers in my blow spot, my trap house boomin'

Talkin' trap talk (Trap talk)

You chop it up with me, then trap talk (Trap talk)

I'm still in my trap house, aka my blow spot

Got some many chops and Glock, no need to keep the door locked

Talkin' trap talk

You chop it up with me, then trap talk (Trap talk)

It's Gucci!


[Verse 2]

55 white bricks fronted to me (Fronted to me)

23 thou' 5'hunit a piece (Wow)

.357 sit on top of the seats (Baow)

Plus a AR-15 ain't far from my reach

Got a house on flat Shoals, sell nothin' but dro

Apartment on the crest, where I get off the blow

Went from pan to perform to 80 a show

Now 26 a shocks, sit up under the rows

A nigga think he playin' with me but I play with his nose

Put a hole in his chest, 'bout the size of commode

I got a J that swing my door and I pay him in dope

I got cutters on my team that snort, I pay them in coke

It's Gucci!


[Chorus]

My cookers made a 50 pack, I ran straight through it

Doin' numbers in my blow spot, my trap house boomin'

Talkin' trap talk (Trap talk)

You chop it up with me, then trap talk (Trap talk)

I'm still in my trap house, aka my blow spot

Got some many chops and Glock, no need to keep the door locked

Talkin' trap talk

You chop it up with me, then trap talk (Trap talk)


[Verse 3]

There's no one in the game with more swagger than this

'Cause I can score with any ho with just the flick of my wrist

Diamonds sittin' on my finger cost ten brick of the sniff

For this matchin' Cartiers, 20 bags of the pills

You can talk and say your sick but I ain't goin' legit

Try and think of the newest murder drop I'ma get (Gucci)

Flow hotter than runnin' water

Tattooed up like Travis Barker

More swag than your baby father

Wrist colder than Northern border

Lang gonna get your life in order

Squares don't get no likin' on

Half my goons are thankin' slaughter

Fuck around, find you stankin' partner

These diamonds in this bitch look like newvo on my fist

Shit, this all a would have twist so I keep a new bitch on my dick


[Chorus]

My cookers made a 50 pack, I ran straight through it

Doin' numbers in my blow spot, my trap house boomin'

Talkin' trap talk (Trap talk)

You chop it up with me, then trap talk (Trap talk)

I'm still in my trap house, aka my blow spot

Got some many chops and Glock, no need to keep the door locked

Talkin' trap talk

You chop it up with me, then trap talk (Trap talk)

It's Gucci!