Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pancakes, artist - Gucci Mane. Date of issue: 21.03.2011
Song language: English
Pancakes |
| Yeahhhhhhh, it’s Gucci! |
| Birds, go! |
| Birds, it’s Dirty, Birds |
| It’s Gucci |
| I’m an East Atlanta rider |
| You gon' fuck around and get ya whole clique tied up |
| My brain fried; |
| I’m on the skull of the Impala |
| I’m high on kush, it’s 'bout my money mixed with power |
| So keep it brief |
| Nigga, two hundred thousand in the fleece |
| Pistols, two hundred twenty on the dash |
| System, I pull off it look like a flash |
| Picture, cheeeeeese! |
| I got the 24's, those 74 for 2's |
| When you was on the stage, Gucci was on the news |
| But bitch don’t pity me, I look like Mr. T |
| I pimp like Soulja Slim, but I think I’m Eazy-E |
| It’s Gucci |
| Patty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakes |
| I touched down with hash browns and serve 'em with the pancakes |
| Patty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakes |
| Got flapjacks, hash browns and syrup in my crack space |
| Patty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakes |
| I touched down with hash browns and serve 'em with the pancakes |
| Patty cake, patty cake, I serve you niggas pancakes |
| Flapjacks, hash browns and syrup in my crack space |
| It’s Gucci |
| I’m the young nigga all the old head love dawg (FLOCKA!) |
| I ain’t lettin shit slide, this ain’t baseball (BRICK SQUAAAD!) |
| Banned in 45 states cause I’m too real |
| Waka Flocka like a Gucci album, I’m hard to kill |
| I don’t think they fuckin with me whether I’m locked dead or in jail |
| I’m from Clayon County, Riverdale so I’m supposed to give 'em hell |
| I’m aware the grass got snakes, I’m aware they gon' hate |
| You too late, I’ll be damned you take this dinner off our plate |
| Dirty Birds, Dirty Birds, twenty-one gun salute and got killed |
| It’s Bankhead Brick Squad out in U.K., these niggas ain’t fuckin with me |
| Mob up off that run day, SK’s, AK’s |
| Throwaways I let that triple up like triple beam we crackin |
| Gucci Mane, Waka Flocka and ya boy big Ball |
| Hard from the start; |
| I ain’t never been no fuckin lame |
| Here I go with Waka Flocka, here I go with Gucci Mane |
| One of a kind — that Memphis 10 runnin through my bloodstream |
| Ghetto superstar — man them hood bitches love me |
| Cup full of that ol' purple drank, pullin on some of that stanky dank |
| Pocket full of Benny Frank and bitch, what the fuck you thank? |
| 45 hollowheads in my stout, yellow purt |
| I hope one of these ol' bitch bitch-ass niggas don’t cross that line and get |
| hurt |
| Money what we came to get, money what we represent |
| You ain’t talkin 'bout shit if you ain’t talkin 'bout gettin it |
| Hard hustle never fold, forever I will be cold |
| Forever I will be big Ball, mouth full of gold |