[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
There's a trap in every hood and all the j's want that good dope
Gucci got that clean cause all the snorters want that real coke
Multimillionaire the real La Flare but I feel broke
10 Million dollar mane but I can't hang with these rich folks
My little boy was only 2 he asked me, "papa, what a roo-poo?"
5 years old closet full of jays; fruit loops
They say Gucci Mane the god of making music people trap to
Drumma Boy the god of making music Gucci snap to
Section 8 apartment and them babies need some fruit loops
Pampers and a bath cause they mamma smoking crack too
How you gone critique me, you industry
I'm in the streets, you out the streets
I murk the streets and murk the beat
I'm Hercules, no murkin' me
Gucci back home making music n***as clap to
He don't never come to the hood unless he have to
Rappin' ass n***as I'mma make my n***as rap you
Its big Gucci, not Bobby V, so ain't no way you jackin' me

[Hook:Gucci Mane]
I ain't really scared of nobody
Nobody
Nobody
Nobody
Nobody
Nobody
I ain't backin' down for nobody
Nobody
Nobody
Nobody
Nobody
Nobody
You got teardrops on your face with no bodies
[Verse 2: Gucci Mane]
Red cars with tint on them so n***as looking but can't see
Paved the way for making trap music so street n***as should thank me
Ain't no way you'll out think me
Ain't no way that you could jank me
And all I sending is head shots cause I don't shoot at n***as feet
N***as better retreat when they see me
On G.P. shoot up the BP
N***a died with his gun, couldn'a been me
One deep on the street with a street sweep?
Gucci Man, I'mma shoot you in your pee pee
Get you fucked in jail like a fefe
N***as know about Flocka & Gucci
Naw we ain't beef he sissy
I'm the type to shoot out Peachtree
You the type that wanna' be me
Bullets just fly right by me
These fuck n***as tried to hit me
You scouts don't get no brownies
One shot just hit my Bentley
Another hit my Charger, but it didn't hurt my hemi

[Hook]