Lyrics You Can Tell - Rocko, Gucci Mane

You Can Tell

You can tell I’m a hustler
You can tell I got my muscles
You can tell, it ain’t hard to see, to see
You can tell, you can tell
You can tell, you can tell
You can tell
You can tell, I grind, I grind
You can tell by the way a nigga shine, I shine
You can tell, it ain’t hard to tell
You can tell, you can tell
You can tell, you can tell
I quit that shit, I went legit, they hate that shit, I be like (fuck 'em)
They don’t like me anyway, I say the same (fuck 'em)
The critics say too street, so they overlook the pimp
Give a damn, no, the promoters overbook a pimp
Plain campaign, streets vote for him
You can tell them bitches love him, they bust it all for him
I’m a don for real, the real niggas fuck with him
You can tell a hater mad, but you know they stomp with him
Super cool, young nigga, born and raised in the gutter
Grew up selling butter, ey, free my brother, brother
You can tell them major labels don’t give a fuck about no album
Never have, never will, still gone be a millionaire
I got a house on the hills, but a room at the twelve
You can tell she with Gucci, she got diamonds on her nails
pop a pill, now I’m moving like a snail
I can tell you a player, drop a whale on the scale
East Atlanta on the map, shipping money in the mail
They call me Gucci Mane the player, but my shoes are Chanel
If I lose then I snooze, Gucci broke, bitch, April’s fools
Is it the booze, or the jewels or the coupe on 22's?
In the bed, in the, I hide money in the roof
Got more babies in the house than an old lady in a shoe
All my goons smoke caprons, and my car don’t come 'till June
I might buy out the show just to pave the bitch more room
Rock gold, everybody know me
I’m cooler now, none of you niggas owe me
I’m a trooper, I keep that Ruger
Mug on my face, you can tell I’ll do ya
On par, my work be plural
Ice be clearer, whips be newer
By my aura, can tell I’m a hustler
On my vowels, I’ve never been a sucker
I’m a boss, you can tell by all this cash
Everything new, you can tell by all this tax
Buy my bitches, I no longer fuck with dimes
I don’t fuck around, she no quarter, she ain’t mine