Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Lawnmower Man, artist - Gucci Mane. Date of issue: 23.05.2005
Song language: English
Lawnmower Man |
| Don’t let your mouth write a check that your ass can’t cash |
| I’m the lawnmower man and your ass is grass |
| Gucci Mane make a nigga wear a shit bag, acting bad |
| Like a kid at Six Flags, I’ll send some slugs at your bitch ass |
| In my hood, ain’t no love for your bitch ass |
| Fifty pounds in a trash bag |
| Anybody move then that nigga get blast at, hit a lick for about fifty stacks |
| Niggas' tripping, talking about Gucci bring the money back, half a brick |
| And I’m bunking that, I’m in the trap where the junkies at |
| I’m getting fat, fuck a jumping jack, Zay' |
| Drop a track, the whole industry be jocking that |
| I’ll put a hole in your stocking cap, work you like a bitch at the Body Tap |
| I stay strapped, blow you off the map, niggas' hate behind my back |
| But when they see me give me dap |
| Don’t let your mouth write a check that your ass can’t cash |
| I’m the lawnmower man and your ass is grass |
| Uh, I’m from the hood, I’ll punch your lights out, I took your jewelry |
| Now I’m iced out, Gucci Mane got that 'caine in, I swear |
| I’d never tuck my chain in, you’re just a thug in training |
| I’m a thug entertaining, really, I’m a street nigga, that chopper on the seat |
| Nigga, I’m ready for that beef, nigga, Young Gucci’s got to eat |
| Nigga, I guess I’ll see you when I see you, nigga, I wouldn’t want to be you |
| Nigga, now, ain’t that like a nigga, trying to sound like a nigga |
| A lover not a fighter, nigga, but let me see your lighter, nigga |
| Don’t let your mouth write a check that your ass can’t cash |
| I’m the lawnmower man and your ass is grass |
| You see the bracelet on my arm, my necklace, my charm |
| I’m dangerous and armed with grenades and bombs, y’all done slumped out |
| With tons of ones, in the club, putting on like I’m 'Dapper Don' |
| Yours truly, Young Gucci, all I do is hustle hard, never had credit |
| But used my tool as a Mastercard, grimy and gritty |
| Hotter than cooking with lard, Gucci Mane on the block again |
| And I’m cooking you boys, it’s that grown ass shit, nigga, bring all the toys |
| When I snap they’ll have to call the lieutenant and sarge |
| Bring the whole entourage, since you thinking you hard |
| And watch how quick I load the chopper bullets, you’ve got to dodge |
| Uh, Gucci Mane on the track, nigga, Zaytoven on the track, nigga, Big Cat |
| La Flare, nigga, I’m the lawnmower man, nigga |
| Don’t let your mouth write a check that your ass can’t cash |
| I’m the lawnmower man and your ass is grass |