Lyrics Gucci Mane – Gucci The Eskimo
Text:
What’s up fuck nigga (what’s up fuck)
Keep my muh fuckin name out yo mouth ya bitch you (pussy)
Pussy ass nigga always got (pussy) something to say (pussy)
(Pussy) Lookin ass nigga
(Pussy) What up Juice
Zaytoven
Early in the morning I’m cooking a brick
See I ain’t really thinking bout you snitches n shit
It’s hot as a bitch but I gives a fuck
I swag through the 6 with my pistol tucked
Brick boy click put your pistols up
So Icy on my tag nigga eat my dust
I’m high as a plane and in God I trust
A nigga try us then his head is bust
I’m smarter than you nigga that’s how I got my bucks
Niggas sending threats like we gives a FUCK
Nigga probably mad cause his budget cut
And I’m in the 6 screaming «Bricks R’ Us»
Gucci
Gucci Mane the eskimo burr you (burr) bitch (burr)
I drop 100 racks and won’t miss the shit (naw)
That fake shit, that fuck shit, just miss me with
And if you baby-momma died I would miss the bitch
Gucci Mane the eskimo burr you (burr) bitch (burr)
I drop 100 racks and won’t miss the shit (naw)
That fake shit, that fuck shit, just miss me with
And if you baby-momma died I would miss the bitch
I’m gangster like Al Capone or James Cady
These rapper ain’t really hard, they just actin’
16 to 22-5, I’m high taxin’
Depends on what tax bracket or your package
21-5 right now, and I’m happy (happy)
It jump 23 and I’mma start clappin’
Ya folks ain’t workin, shit, my shop open
I’m on deck
Brick with no flex
Get snowed in like Laguardia Airport
Got 150 bricks with no, passport
And I’m good fo’ 400 I ask for it
You got taxed for it
I pay cash for it
I send out for it
Then bring back yorin
You got taxed for it
I pay cash for it
I send out for it
Then bring back yorin… chorin
Gucci Mane the eskimo burr you (burr) bitch (burr)
I drop 100 racks and won’t miss the shit (naw)
That fake shit, that fuck shit, just miss me with
And if you baby-momma died I would miss the bitch
Gucci Mane the eskimo burr you (burr) bitch (burr)
I drop 100 racks and won’t miss the shit (naw)
That fake shit, that fuck shit, just miss me with
And if you baby-momma died I would miss the bitch
Gucci frames shoes hat and wallet and bag
In my gucci corvette, I know you like that swag
Polar bear gucci chillin offa my igloo
30 inch rims so deep you fit your kids through
Keep your dick out my girl, Gucci forbids you
Chopper leave holes imagine what that sig do
Deuce duece botton then *skirp* I lose you
So many whips lil momma confuse you
Bart Simpson chain so strange it’s cartoon dude
Hummer fully loaded with the chrome and moon roof
Gucci Mane and Juiceman BURR you bitch
We’ll drop 100 racks and won’t miss the shit
Gucci Mane the eskimo burr you (burr) bitch (burr)
I drop 100 racks and won’t miss the shit (naw)
That fake shit, that fuck shit, just miss me with
And if you baby-momma died I would miss the bitch
Gucci Mane the eskimo burr you (burr) bitch (burr)
I drop 100 racks and won’t miss the shit (naw)
That fake shit, that fuck shit, just miss me with
And if you baby-momma died I would miss the bitch
