Lyrics Truth - Gucci Mane

Truth

It’s Gucci
Suckers keep on downing me
They know they should be crowning me
Hahaha
Yo
It’s Guwop
Just counting paper, just counting paper
We’re just counting the days, huh
80 chains going and ain’t took one yet (Burr)
Ain’t nothin' retarded 'bout Gucci but this gold Rolex (Huh)
A ten thousand dollar bounty put on my neck (Burr)
I hope you didn’t pay them, 'cause they didn’t have no success (Nope)
You seen my interview, nigga, and you got upset (R-I-P)
I seen your interview too, you looked oh-so-stressed
I think the nigga just mad 'cause I fucked his ex (Mwah)
And I’m a big dog, he got the lil' boy complex
Go dig your partner up, nigga, bet he can’t say shit
And if you looking for the kid, I’ll be in Zone 6 (Gucci)
I hit a birthday party fresh, you and your homeboy, Tip
I know y’all seen me over there with that black four-fif'
I bought a Bentley Mulsanne, it look just like Tip’s
But I never went platinum—do you catch my drift?
(Skrrr!)
I never let a nigga do me like Tip did Flip (It's Gucci)
This the same shit that got Big and 2Pac killed, it’s Gucci
Haha
Okay
For the record, this is not a diss record
Just the truth
It’s Gucci, the living legend
Oh, yeah
I’m a legend
Living legend, nigga
Respect that (Gucci)
Check!
I ain’t playing with you, I ain’t trying to dance with you (Fuck you)
I ain’t using hands, let them rubberbands get you (Get 'em)
It take money to go to war, and we can go to war, nigga (Get 'em)
I ain’t no real rapper, I’m a fucking gravedigger (Ha)
I’m a old-school fool, don’t make me show my age, nigga
Grab a Louisville and turn it to a batting cage, nigga
I did a song with Keyshia Cole, and I know you still miss her (Yeah)
But Puff was fucking her while you was falling in love with her (Wow)
Call you to do a song, wouldn’t even smoke no bud with you (Haha)
I was screaming «So Icey» and was a neighborhood nigga (Burr)
This AR is my backup 'cause I don’t need nann nigga
Must didn’t hear when Flocka said, «Let them guns blam, nigga!»
(Bow, bow)
Used to drive to Birmingham with a lot of grams, nigga (Skrr!)
I’m just who I am, nigga, but I ain’t sparing nann nigga
I know it’s hard for you to sleep knowing you killed your homeboy
You left his son to be a bastard, won’t even raise your own boy (Gucci)