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gucci mane - 15th and the 1st lyrics

“15th and the 1st”
(with waka flocka flame, feat. yg hootie)

[intro]
uhh, uhh
ayy guc’ mane, we good right now man
get money good man

[verse 1: gucci mane]
it’s a white girl in town – name is cocaine
it’s some dirty birds in town – gucci mane & waka flame
we fly in, on buy-in, say you got more birds? you lyin
you tryin and lyin, you boys ain’t supplyin
i pitch like nolan ryan, got cocallina flyin
my partners stick up kids, duct tape rope they gon’ tie in
in the bushes they lyed in all night that’s my word
by the end of the mornin they left with them birds
and i’m gone off that purp’, and i’m slurrin my words
i swerved in my benz, bangin my 4g’s on the curb
the lean, the herb, pay me like the first
you cross brick squad, get hurt
i got work – gucci

[chorus]
my homeboys will get you, pay you on the 33rd
two pints of lean’ll have me slurrin on my words
undertaker car, triple black drop bird
stomach full of money, so hundreds i’ma burp
all the hoods love us like the 15th and the 1st
two pints of lean’ll have me slurrin on my words
undertaker car, triple black drop bird
stomach full of money, so hundreds i’ma burp
all the hoods love us like the 15th and the 1st

[verse 2: waka flocka flame]
five grand for a head shot
boy don’t be no flintstone and get yo’ (bedrocked), n-gg-!
triple red drop, offsets through the parkin lot
where i’m from, young n-gg-z shootin at the cops
where i’m from, they fakin
my hood right side, n-gg-, green flaggin
lay yo’ -ss down if you do too much braggin
three case, four glocks, n-gg- that’s swaggin, ughh
penalized, then goes the packer-man
what’cha h-ll, you would think it was a cracker-man
i don’t know ’em bah-bah-bah-bah-back’em man
f-ck ’em den! throw my stash in the club that there’ll do
every girl gettin past you
send an ambulance on that -ss i want that rent due
robbin every n-gg- that ain’t hit squad, blood or piru
flocka!!

[chorus]

[verse 3: yg hootie]
half a million dollar jewelry like “f-ck that bird!”
n-gg-z screamin they want beef, i’m like (roger that)!
my alb-m didn’t sell, so i’m layin n-gg-z down
shootin every n-gg-, that burst leaves a f-ckin frown
forty carats on my bracelet, my polo black
n-gg-z talkin like they want beef, i’m wantin that
seven grams in the swisher, i’m gon’ solo that
ridin around with my strap like “where they at?”
all these rap n-gg-z hold up, stole my philly hat
you will never be a legend like the gucci mane
you will never be turnt up like my partner flock’
you n-gg-z hoes i run your block when them choppers chop

[chorus]

- gucci mane lyrics

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