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Blood All On It
par
Gucci Mane
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Paroles
(Let the BandPlay) Yeah, yeah, uh, yeah, uh, yeah, uh Okay, ayy Cash out if I want it (For real, though) The money got blood all on it (For real, though) The money got blood all on it, yeah The money got blood all on it (For real, though) Bad b*t*h with me on it (For real, though) N***a wanna be me, don't it? (Gabbana) But the money got blood all on it Yeah, the money got blood all on it (Hey) My young n***as ready to shoot (Damn) 'Cause they ain't got nothin' to lose (Damn) He said, it's f**k everybody and f**k everything, he got somethin' to prove (Damn) In the trenches pullin' moves (Got 'еm) A hundred racks in blues (Franks) In a shoebox, hеll nah, them ain't no motherf**kin' shoes (Racks, ayy, what you do, n***a?) Took the motor out a 'Vette, put it in a Chevelle (Switch it up) Do my dirt all by myself 'cause these n***as gon' tell (I swear) She look like God sent her from Heaven, but she fine as hell (Bad) I'm sendin' strong to five states, man, I just broke my scale (Uh) Lil' cuz just caught a murder charge and I just post his bail (Yeah) Doing donuts in a 'Rari, I'm a major player (Skrrt) Send bags to the hood and to the opps I send some shells (Yeah) Never talk on a phone and never leave a paper trail Super bad b*t*h with a body like Buffy (Woah) Went to see my jeweler, spent a million like it's nothin' (A millio') I got on too much ice, she caught the flu when she f**k me (Uh) Plain jane Richard Mille, I told my jeweler, "Bust it" Cash out if I want it (For real, though) The money got blood all on it (For real, though) The money got blood all on it, yeah The money got blood all on it (For real, though) Bad b*t*h with me on it (For real, though) N***a wanna be me, don't it? (Gabbana) But the money got blood all on it Yeah, the money got blood all on it (Hey) My young n***as ready to shoot (Damn) 'Cause they ain't got nothin' to lose (Damn) He said, it's f**k everybody and f**k everything, he got somethin' to prove (Damn, f**k 'em) In the trenches pullin' moves (Got 'em) A hundred racks in blues (Franks) In a shoebox, hell nah, them ain't no motherf**kin' shoes (Racks) At the top where it get real lonely Just might put a dub on homie New Phantom with the Forgis on it (Forgis) And the paint got blood all on it (Yeah) These n***as ain't eatin', they starvin' (Nah) I can see 'cause they crew gettin' boney These suckers do nothing but clout chase These boys just some one-trick ponies (Pussies) Man, this rap game so damn phony These n***as a bunch of Jabronies (Hoes) Everything you got, they want it That's why I'm still up on it Just told my hitter, he on it N***a better break fast like Shoney's And I got my bag like Tony These n***as wanna clone me, don't it? (Huh) I went from ridin' a V12, switched it up and now my motor electric (Switched it up) I stacked up way more millions than haters expected You gotta shoot for your respect, that's how you send a message (Bah, baow) You gotta do what you gotta do to keep family protected (It's Gucci) Cash out when I want it, yeah (Huh) These b*t*hes know how I'm comin', yeah These n***as know how I'm comin', yeah (Yeah) The b*t*hes know how I'm comin' (Yeah, why they call you Tony?) 'Cause I pop sh*t by my lonely (Fah) Pocket full of Crip-blue hunnids, yeah Money got blood all on it (Yeah, yeah) Yeah, I'm the one, not the two (Two), I turn a one to a two (Two) I'm havin' racks, yeah, I got the bag, yeah, I put the bag on you, you I put the bag on you too, inside my Hellcat ragù I'm goin' nuts, I keep me a tool (Yeah), they like this young n***a a loose screw (Loco) Yeah, took the doors off my McLaren, put it on my Urus, ayy (Phew, phew) Don't compare me to no rapper 'cause these n***as weird, ayy They done p*ssed me off, it's codeine all up in my urine, ayy (Wock', Wock') When it come to shootin' sh*t, my jumper be the purest Cash out if I want it (B*t*h, for real, though) The money got blood all on it (Yeah, for real, though) The money got blood all on it, yeah (Yeah) The money got blood all on it (For real, though, yeah) Bad b*t*h with me on it (For real, though) N***a wanna be me, don't it? (Gabbana, ha) But the money got blood all on it Yeah, the money got blood all on it (Yeah, yeah, hey) My young n***as ready to shoot (Damn) 'Cause they ain't got nothin' to lose (Damn) He said, it's f**k everybody and f**k everything, he got somethin' to prove (Damn) In the trenches pullin' moves (Got 'em) A hundred racks in blues (Franks) In a shoebox, hell nah, them ain't no motherf**kin' shoes (Racks)
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