Gucci Flow – Finesse2Tymes, Gucci Mane Lyrics

“Gucci Flow”

A million dollars don’t excite me (At all)

Model bitches can’t entice me (At all)

Still a street nigga, white jumpsuit, black Glock, dirty white Nikes

Still’ll put them things in a rental (Finesse ’em)

Crack his head down the middle (I got ’em)

And I’m certified everywhere I go (Go)

I don’t need a vouch, I’m official (I’m him)

They wanna stop me, like Jeffrey Simmons (Jeffrey Simmons)

I’m from Memphis, I grew up and walked to Simmons (Eastside)

If you ain’t from the block, you the opposition (Opposition)

If you weren’t sellin’ dope, you was killin’ and pimpin’ (Pimp)

Robbin’ and stealin’ (Rob), whatever to get it, just get it (Just get it)

Anything that’s on me, it’s in me (In me)

I speak the truth, I’m the realest

I ain’t just dedicated, I’m committed (Committed)

Pull up, white polo-tee, Palm Angels sweat, VVS baguettes, they know I was next

Locked down, twenty-three hours, one hour wrecked, look at me now

Everythin’ together (Everythin’), if I changed, I changed for the better

Everybody won’t shine with me, but we ain’t stayin’ in the rain together

Can’t hang together (Go)

[Gucci Mane:]

Gucci finessin’, these niggas regressin’

Call me a clone, but I call it progressin’ (Well, damn)

I went to jail and it taught me a lesson

I took a bird and turned into a blessin’

One got a fetish for chasin’ the lettuce

She droppin’ this, made her get some baguettes (Ho’)

Niggas pathetic, diss me and regret it

I took the cash and let them take the credit (Wow)

Life is hectic, keep it kosher steady, don’t need no medic (Woo)

Lost in Vegas, I ain’t sweated, picked up a bag and I ain’t bet it (No)

My niggas rich with millions, but we fell in it

Niggas did the killings, but they tellin’ (Pussy)

Every time I hit the county, I was sellin’

Brought the front to pack, I was seven (True)

Matter of fact, I was into .7s

Jay showin’ love, call me Kevin

Forgive me, Lord, I really need a reverend (Huh)

Play with ‘Wop, you’re on your way to heaven (God)

Gucci pulled up in a 911 (Skrrt)

Raisin’ terror, like it’s 9/11 (Mmm)

Took a nigga, whack him without a weapon (Wow)

He screamin’ “Help”, but knowin’ they can’t help him (It’s Gucci)

Track Information

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