Lyrics Gucci Mane – Rolly Up

Hook: x3
Hold ya rollie up, hold ya rollie up
If you’ve got a rollie then hold it up
If you ain’t got a rollie bitch step it up

Verse 1:
Since my money fat I’m throwin stacks
Patron shots I’m throwin back
We look good, I’m a spend some racks
Turn round back and a brick squad tat
Taz brought it back but it still don’t pass
Push that Jag with a bag of cash
All this stash, and I hope it lasts
And I’ve never seen the bitch, suck dick so fast
I ain’t even know you was rich like that
How the hell a nigga pull a bitch like that?
How the hell a nigga got a watch like that?
How a nigga face to face with some shit like that?
Better have a mil, we’ve been like that
Tell the hoes how the goose is like that
Whole clique, rock ‘n’ roll looks like that
Got chick like this, so we flex like that
I’m serious, nigga, they’re curipus nigga
These thugs have a bitch delirious nigga
Don’t see it, nigga, can’t hear them niggas
Don’t stand there, and don’t feel them nigga
I’m the trill nigga since a lil nigga
Only difference got it bigger, nigga
She a eye catcher let er car catcher
But it’s chainless so let the watch go

Hook: x2
Hold ya rollie up, hold ya rollie up
If you’ve got a rollie then hold it up
If you ain’t got a rollie then step it up
If you got a rollie then keep it up (hold it up)

Verse 2:
A dope boy watch is a Rolex
Every dope boy dream to have a Rolex
Everybody in the hood want a Rolex
You better keep your pistol with your Rolex
Ride, smoking, counting in that Rolls Royce
I brought the streets back, it needed my voice
Took the nigga for a check and bought a white horse
Bought a gold rollie just to match the dope
You want a yacht, master know your mathematics
Hold your rollie up, and view a real traffic
I’m not a real rapper, I’ve got a real chick
Real street nigga, with a rollie

Hook: x2
Hold ya rollie up, hold ya rollie up
If you’ve got a rollie then hold it up
If you ain’t got a rollie bitch step it up
If you got a rollie then keep it up (hold it up)

Verse 3:
There’s a plan, masterpiece, no AP
64 Gs tryina freeze me
My diamonds kicking, Jet Li
I’m balling hard, no referee
Brought present watches for the homies
Crime pay, fuck police
Came a long way from that Benny
Getting topped off of my Bentley!
It’s a Daytona, no Hubo
Got a pink slip, no car note
I’m balling hard, fucking up a chick
Real street nigga, I ain’t gotta flex
I can count a mil, don’t break a sweat
That iced out rollie got a pussy wet
Got your little brother throwing up the set
Got your lil sister throwing up the set
Waka Flocka Flame!

Interlude:
Chugga then your motherfucker, screaming Rolex game
If you own a rollie, getting money, do your thang
You a broke nigga, kill yourself – Kurt Cobain
Squad!

Hook: x2
Hold ya rollie up, hold ya rollie up
If you’ve got a rollie then hold it up
If you ain’t got a rollie bitch step it up
If you got a rollie then keep it up (hold your rollie up)