Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Live at the Red Carpet, artist - Gucci Mane.
Date of issue: 17.06.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Live at the Red Carpet |
Woah |
My fault, white chalk on the sidewalk and it’s my fault (And it’s my) |
Yeah, on the side, on the side walk |
I had to laugh to keep me from crying (Wop) |
Ha-ha |
Looking like a four-eyed nerd with these Cartier frames (Nerd) |
Fuck a bowtie, I’m rocking diamond chains (Burr) |
Titties perking, ass poking out |
Got my dick so hard, see the vein coming out (Damn) |
Probably won’t get no star on the sidewalk (Huh?) |
White chalk on the sidewalk and it’s my fault |
Gucci keep going up, posting all his whereabouts |
In these foreign lands shaking hands he don’t care about |
I don’t give a damn 'bout nothing but the pay amount |
I ain’t never going broke, all I really care about |
Money coming in and out, trapping like it’s In-N-Out |
Money every minute, nigga, I look like a millionaire |
Big player, sitting at the end of the boss chair |
Sewing loose ends, get you caught up in the crossfire |
Looking back, I was in the pen behind barbed wire |
And I ain’t tried to blend, I’m a stand up tall guy |
Testing, testing, Gucci flexing, let me see if this mic working (Mic) |
Always make a good impression, live at the Grammy’s, let me tuck my shirt in |
Snuck the work in the Birk' like a vet do |
You can’t gas me, bitch, 'cause I’m selling jet fuel |
Real life freaky girl live in the bedroom (Freaky) |
Snuck off and hit my bitch in the red room (Shh) |
I remember you from school, nigga, you a ho guy |
I don’t think nobody got the balls that I got (No) |
Shotgun hunter, had his whole clique hog tied |
Gucci Mane shotter, I’ma start a bonfire |
Strapped with the FN, I don’t need a fall guy |
Standing in the kitchen flipping chickens just like Five Guys |
.223'll shitbag, blow out your whole teste |
I just made a new investment, ice Wayne Gretzky |
Testing, testing, Longway flexing |
I just make the GT go skrrt like the Jetson’s |
S&L top floor, fucking two besties (Bitch) |
Took a hundred pound and went and baguettied the necklace (Ice) |
Paramount diamonds, just exquisite suggestion |
Remy bust down, you can tell by the setting |
It’s a high limit room, I see you bettin' by the petty |
Go out like a hot boy, Long gon' pop it when we ready |
I get your bitch and trap her, make her suck it like spaghetti |
The brick came with the st&on it, we cook it 'til it’s ready |
I’m hittin' her from the back, she say I’m fuckin' up her edges |
Live at the Grammy’s, Longway sippin' on Texas (Longway, bitch) |
Testing, testing, Gucci flexing, let me see if this mic working (Mic) |
Always make a good impression, live at the Grammy’s, let me tuck my shirt in |
Snuck the work in the Birk' like a vet do |
You can’t gas me, bitch, 'cause I’m selling jet fuel |
Real life freaky girl live in the bedroom (Freaky) |
Snuck off and hit my bitch in the red room (Shh) |
I remember you from school, nigga, you a ho guy |
I don’t think nobody got the balls that I got (No) |
Shotgun hunter, had his whole clique hog tied |
Gucci Mane shotter, I’ma start a bonfire |