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feat waka flocka 8ball gucci mane - pancakes (feat. waka flocka & 8ball) - gucci mane lyrics

yahhhhhhh, it’s gucci!
birds, go!
birds, it’s dirty, birds
it’s gucci

i’m an east atlanta rider
you gon’ f-ck around and get ya whole clique tied up
my brain fried; i’m on the skull of the impala
i’m high on kush, it’s ’bout my money mixed with power
so keep it brief
n-gg-, two hundred thousand in the fleece
pistols, two hundred twenty on the dash
system, i pull off it look like a flash
picture, cheeeeeese!
i got the 24’s, those 74 for 2’s
when you was on the stage, gucci was on the news
but b-tch don’t pity me, i look like mr. t
i pimp like soulja slim, but i think i’m eazy-e
it’s gucci

patty cake, patty cake, i hop around with pancakes
i touched down with hash browns and serve ’em with the pancakes
patty cake, patty cake, i hop around with pancakes
got flapjacks, hash browns and syrup in my crack sp-ce
patty cake, patty cake, i hop around with pancakes
i touched down with hash browns and serve ’em with the pancakes
patty cake, patty cake, i serve you n-gg-z pancakes
flapjacks, hash browns and syrup in my crack sp-ce
it’s gucci

i’m the young n-gg- all the old head love dawg (flocka!)
i ain’t lettin sh-t slide, this ain’t baseball (brick squaaad!)
banned in 45 states cause i’m too real
waka flocka like a gucci alb-m, i’m hard to kill
i don’t think they f-ckin with me whether i’m locked dead or in jail
i’m from clayon county, riverdale so i’m supposed to give ’em h-ll
i’m aware the gr-ss got snakes, i’m aware they gon’ hate
you too late, i’ll be d-mned you take this dinner off our plate
dirty birds, dirty birds, twenty-one gun salute and got killed
it’s bankhead brick squad out in u.k., these n-gg-z ain’t f-ckin with me
mob up off that run day, sk’s, ak’s
throwaways i let that triple up like triple beam we crackin

gucci mane, waka flocka and ya boy big ball
hard from the start; i ain’t never been no f-ckin lame
here i go with waka flocka, here i go with gucci mane
one of a kind – that memphis 10 runnin through my bloodstream
ghetto superstar – man them hood b-tches love me
cup full of that ol’ purple drank, pullin on some of that stanky dank
pocket full of benny frank and b-tch, what the f-ck you thank?
45 hollowheads in my stout, yellow purt
i hope one of these ol’ b-tch b-tch–ss n-gg-z don’t cross that line and get hurt
money what we came to get, money what we represent
you ain’t talkin ’bout sh-t if you ain’t talkin ’bout gettin it
hard hustle never fold, forever i will be cold
forever i will be big ball, mouth full of gold

- feat waka flocka 8ball gucci mane lyrics

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