Lyrics Gucci Mane – I Get So Get So High
Text:
My diamond wrist, my diamond neck, kick like Jackie Chan wrist
Got that money, I can flex, I got Jackie Chan bitch
Not the rubber ban’ man, but the rubber ban’ clique
I can nut all on ya bitch, call her the body paint bitch
Can I borrow your safe today, because my safe don’t got a cent
There’s a stitch comin’ out my ‘partment, an man it smell like 40 bricks
They used to call me 40 shawty, now they call me extra clip
You can call me Carbon-15, when you see me let it rip
If you a crip I’ll leave your crip, if you a blood I’ll leave ya bleedin
Drop Camaro round in Cleavland, now they call it bleedlan
Gucci Mane’s a gangster but these niggas not believin
Till I pull that fire, make them niggas start retreatin
Yo girlfriend’s a komoto dragon, keep a nigga skeetin
All my rims are stamped with dragons, man them fuckas leavin
Yo brother was disloyal to me, man that nigga treason
He was insubordinate, man I had to hit the heathen
Fo-fo 2 on 24’s I’m ridin through 4 season
Hard top rarri boulevard, an I don’t see no reason
Lord, I get High-ahah, I don’t know why-ay
If I don’t drank to day-y I rather die-e
Lord, I get High-ahah, I don’t know why-ay
If I don’t drank to day-y I rather die-e
Popo pull me over in a blue and black Bentley
Blue Forgi’s thought that I was Cripin like Lipsy
I ride 24 like Vos Vos
If you a bad bitch then vo-post
You come to Gucci house bring no-clothes
Ms lady can I put this in yo ass ho?
Gucci in the club where the phat ho? (phat ho)
I don wan a red, I wan a black ho, black ho
I don wan that ho, I want that ho, that ho
Lord, I get High-ahah, I don’t know why-ay
If I don’t drank to day-y I rather die-e
Lord, I get High-ahah, I don’t know why-ay
If I don’t drank to day-y I rather die-e
