Gucci Mane - Pancakes Lyrics
[Intro]Yahhhhhhh, it's Gucci!Birds, go!Birds, it's Dirty, BirdsIt's Gucci[Gucci Mane]I'm an East Atlanta riderYou gon' ***** around and get ya whole clique tied upMy brain fried; I'm on the skull of the ImpalaI'm high on kush, it's 'bout my money mixed with powerSo keep it briefNigga, two hundred thousand in the fleecePistols, two hundred twenty on the dashSystem, I pull off it look like a flashPicture, cheeeeeese!I got the 24's, those 74 for 2'sWhen you was on the stage, Gucci was on the newsBut ***** don't pity me, I look like Mr. TI pimp like Soulja Slim, but I think I'm Eazy-EIt's Gucci[Chorus: Gucci Mane]Patty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakesI touched down with hash browns and serve 'em with the pancakesPatty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakesGot flapjacks, hash browns and syrup in my crack spacePatty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakesI touched down with hash browns and serve 'em with the pancakesPatty cake, patty cake, I serve you niggaz pancakesFlapjacks, hash browns and syrup in my crack spaceIt's Gucci[Waka Flocka Flame]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 realWaka Flocka like a Gucci album, I'm hard to killI don't think they *****in with me whether I'm locked dead or in jailI'm from Clayon County, Riverdale so I'm supposed to give 'em hellI'm aware the grass got snakes, I'm aware they gon' hateYou too late, I'll be damned you take this dinner off our plateDirty Birds, Dirty Birds, twenty-one gun salute and got killedIt's Bankhead Brick Squad out in U.K., these niggaz ain't *****in with meMob up off that run day, SK's, AK'sThrowaways I let that triple up like {?} triple beam we crackin[Chorus][8Ball]Gucci Mane, Waka Flocka and ya boy big BallHard from the start; I ain't never been no *****in lameHere I go with Waka Flocka, here I go with Gucci ManeOne of a kind - that Memphis 10 runnin through my bloodstreamGhetto superstar - man them hood *****es love meCup full of that ol' purple drank, pullin on some of that stanky dankPocket full of Benny Frank and *****, what the ***** you thank?45 hollowheads in my stout, yellow purt{?}I hope one of these ol' ***** *****-ass niggaz don't cross that line and get hurtMoney what we came to get, money what we representYou ain't talkin 'bout shit if you ain't talkin 'bout gettin itHard hustle never fold, forever I will be coldForever I will be big Ball, mouth full of gold[Chorus]
