Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song What the Hell , by - Gucci Mane. Release date: 08.08.2011
Song language: English
What the Hell |
| Might as well sell a bale |
| What the hell? |
| Oh… |
| I’m just a nigga with a fucking scale |
| Trying to stay outta jail, oh… |
| I am just a shooter, shorty |
| I hang out with shooters, shorty |
| Put you in that torture rack |
| Call me Lex Luger, shorty |
| You can call me Jason |
| Or you call me Freddie Kruger, Shorty |
| Forty’s just a feature, charge you fifty for the after-party |
| Gucci Mane’s the shooter boss |
| No, not a producer, shorty |
| Eighty goons on your ass, like some barracudas, shorty |
| Young ass nigga with a mouth full of gold |
| Bitches know I’m rich as fuck |
| Dumbass nigga with a mouth full of hate |
| Grab my AK and chop 'em up |
| Still fuck at least ten bitches a day |
| Like I’m a pornagrapher |
| Gucci Mane and Flocka |
| Can’t even see us if you had binoculars |
| Ice cream’s backordered |
| New color chat water |
| Call your girlfriend «Trapitha» |
| Everybody grabbin' her |
| Everybody stabbin' her |
| Suckin' on us like Dracula |
| Mid-grade, mid-grade |
| Been sellin' it seventh grade |
| Stay with that throw away |
| Cellphone chirping, catchin' plays |
| Fifty slabs, hundred slabs, seven grams, half-a-ounces |
| Offer that, runnin' that, from the back |
| No commin' back |
| Shorty want an eight-ball, told her call Gucci |
| Trappin' with my gutter chick, work up in her coochie |
| Dope man Nike’s, Levi’s with the white tee |
| I fucked my money up, now I think that they don’t like me |
| Shorty’s pilled and talkin' told me where her nigga’s white be |
| You that I’m sheisty |
| These niggas' nothing like me |
| Money, money, I be countin' hunneds |
| Looking for the jackers |
| You know that I’m gunning |
| I’m Just trying to see another day |
| Yesterday it was okay |
| Hopefully today’ll be better though |
| Hopefully I’ll get some better blow |
| Snowflakes out here finna go |
| I’m just trying to keep my ho |
| Hopefully I’ll hit the lotto |
| I’m so tired of sellin' this stone |
| Every day we live for the moment |
| Every second we got to do what we go to do |
| If I finessed you, I had to |
| I had to do what I had to do |
| You retaliate, can’t be mad at you |
| Gotta do what you gotta do |
| I can’t take offense to it |
| Still, I gotta play defense |
| Cold-hearted amphibians |
| In this street, all this slime |
| Nigga told you he ain’t never thought he hit no lick |
| That nigga lyin' |
| At night I get on my knees |
| Free my conscious, free my mind |
| God, help us find another way |
| We’re so tired of committing these crimes, ay |