Текст Gucci Mane – I Told You

Gucci Mane:
Wop, Wop, Woptober, Wop
Finally, this is the finale
It’s Gucci

These slides are Buscemi, my drawers and wifebeaters Givenchy
A nigga be handsome, these white women say that they want me
They say that I’m country but I’m number one in the country
It’s no need to tell me, I know you lil niggas is hungry
Mike Will and Zay beat, I’ma ride that bitch just like a 10 speed
My chick is a dime piece
I bought her some shoes that cost 10 G’s
These bitches is grimy, befriending my bitch to get round me
A nigga so shiny, they just wanna gawk at my timepiece
From the top and I’m not stopping till the money stop
I used to cook with several pots
But now my hands in several pots
You try to plot on ‘Wop, my goons gon’ play connect the dots
My knot so big it slap you cross your forehead and it left a knot

Young Thug:
I told you, I told you
I told you, I told you
These boys didn’t believe in me
I showed you, I showed you
My bitch my lil whoadie
My bitch from Magnolia
Surrounded by bad bitches
We up without Forgi’s
We live bout that cash talk baby
We live bout that cash talk baby

Now tell me the problem now
I cut that head like a barber now
They told me them boys are now
I’ma pull up on your war right now
The cops know we mobbing now
I’ma go end what you started now
We used to be dead broke
Now we gon’ do it real larger now
You know I’ma vet it
Gone but they sipping synthetic, ay
They told and you let ’em
These fuck niggas fake as their bezels, ay
My gold from Brazil
I got my shit out of treasure, ay
You gotta wrap the weed 10 times to smell it, ay
Cinderella smoking kush and cigarellos, hey
Get them birdies, let them fly without propellors, hey
Get the P, run up the door up, lift up and accelerate
Drive the Wraithy, when it rain for the umbrellas, ay

I told you, I told you
I told you, I told you
These boys didn’t believe in me
I showed you, I showed you
My bitch my lil whoadie
My bitch from Magnolia
Surrounded by bad bitches
We up without Forgi’s
We live bout that cash talk baby
We live bout that cash talk baby
I’m riding in Nascar baby
I’m down with that asphalt
They know not to play with us, ay
We strapped like the black hawks
I got that boy leaking out blood
I got that boy getting chunked, yeah

Gucci Mane:
Burr, aha, it’s Gucci