[Intro: Gucci Mane]
Call me Gucci Mane when I’m on the stage with you
But call me Jesse James when I hold this damn pistol
You can call me Gucci Guwop when I do a song with you
But don’t walk up on me homes, I ain’t finna blow no strong with you

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
Call me Gucci Mane when I’m on the stage with you
But call me Jesse James when I hold this damn pistol
You can call me Gucci Guwop when I do a song with you
But don’t walk up on me homes, I ain’t finna blow no strong with you
Got them young shooters with me they don't get along with you
If you ain’t get no money n***a what is wrong with you
And I can't turn you on, you must have the wrong picture
I'm in the VIP sippin' lean with this very long Swisher
I’m drinkin' promethazine and codeine and this apple juice mixture
If you knew that you wouldn't do that I swear you would not kiss her
Yous a Nicky Barnes ass n***a tryin to tell on Guy Fisher
If a snitch was to die today I bet his hood would not miss him

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
Yous a dead man, playing games with the bread
Yous a dead man, I put that pistol to your head man
Dead man you’re playing games with my bread
You in the red man, fuck around and be a dead man
Dead man, dead man, yous a dead man
Dead man, dead man, yous a dead man
Dead man, I put that pistol to your head man
Dead man, I put that pistol to your head man, dead man
[Verse 2: Young Scooter]
Five deuce, four-tray, six eight
Eight watches, four chains six rings
Pots, forks: dope at a high cost
From coast to coast, I said numbers on the dope
Remix to you, you know I can sell you both 16-5
Prices lower then Shawty Lo, when I drive
Got my seat leanin low bricks inside
Gott'em stash in the door always road running
Me and Gucci getting money bands yeah keep comin'
Tractor trailer in the morning won’t stop jugging
Every month I make 4 hundred, I’m a street n***a
I got rich off of junkies

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
Yous a dead man, playing games with the bread
Yous a dead man, I put that pistol to your head man
Dead man you’re playing games with my bread
You in the red man, fuck around and be a dead man
Dead man, dead man, yous a dead man
Dead man, dead man, yous a dead man
Dead man, I put that pistol to your head man
Dead man, I put that pistol to your head man, dead man

[Verse 3: Trae the Truth]
What the fuck was you thinking the bitch you must have been drinking
This chopper had got me feeling like harley
If I let it ride you’re bound to be stinkin
I’m an asshole I do what I’d like too
On shit thats made for you to fight to
I don’t give a fuck bitch I don’t like you
Got that fire bitch I might light you
Bitch I am the streets you just look tough
Call the bricks snow like I was on bluff
Call me the master like Sho'Nuff
Bad boy the forreal no puff
If a n***a pussy I don’t pimp mine
I just keep the distance don’t play with mine
Stay in your place fall out the line
Had the young n***as over here to pay a fine
You can find me in the hood what a hood don’t go
Heard that somebody the hood don’t know
If a n***a turn up tellem watch this show
Money never sit still so my net don’t blow
King of the streets just call me sire
All my throne they no one higher
T-R-U-T-H no liar
Real street n***a I won’t retire
[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
Yous a dead man, playing games with the bread
Yous a dead man, I put that pistol to your head man
Dead man you’re playing games with my bread
You in the red man, fuck around and be a dead man
Dead man, dead man, yous a dead man
Dead man, dead man, yous a dead man
Dead man, I put that pistol to your head man
Dead man, I put that pistol to your head man, dead man