[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
All I hang around is murderers
I'm still running with the robbers
The dope boys my partners
So you don't want these problems
Squash it, cause I'll have 'em sleepin in your closet
Take a hostage, hit you til' your head leak like a faucet
The n***as that I rock with,, don't give a fuck about'cha
The hot shit, they got bricks, but act like they ain't got shit
With the logic, no need to cock it, cause I done cocked it
Got them chopsticks, ain't with the boxin', I have em boxed in
That's fantastic, the plane just landed, I'ma do gymnastics
I'm nasty, I shoot you in your face then close your casket

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
I got a firearm, cut the stove on
I'm in the kitchen, tryna make it through the high jump
I'm counting money in my motherfucking long johns
And I wish a n***a would steal my bomb
Get the shotgun
Get the chopper, son
How you a skreet n***a? You ain't got no gun
You talking shit, son
Better get one
We shooting in the air, we tryna hit something
[Verse 2: Young Scooter]
Lookin at me crazy, wanna hit something
Fake rappin ass n***a, make her hit or some
Talking bout what you done did, sell a brick or something
Your bitch ain't got no red bottoms, go and get her some
Cut the stove on
Let the pot boil
I'm a hot boy
N***a fuck y'all
Turn it up a notch, ball till I fall
Street lottery, that mean my money long
Still in poverty, with the jack boys
I got 2-2-3's, I got macks, boy
Let the dope dry, get your sack, boy
Freeband gang, and Bricksquad

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
I got a firearm, cut the stove on
I'm in the kitchen, tryna make it through the high jump
I'm counting money in my motherfucking long joHns
And I wish a n***a would steal my bomb
Get the shotgun
Get the chopper, son
How you a skreet n***a? You ain't got no gun
You talking shit, son
Better get one
We shooting in the air, we tryna hit something