Gucci Mane

Bottoms up, bottoms up
Hey, what's in your cup
Got a couple bottles, but a couple ain't enough
Bottoms up, bottoms up
Throw your hands up
Tell security we bout to tear this club up
Bottoms up, bottoms up
Pocket full of green
Girl, you know I love the way you shake it in them jeans
Bottoms up, bottoms up
Throw your hands up
Bottoms up, bottoms up
Bottoms up, bottoms up

Two Ferrari's parked outside
I call them Solange and Beyoncé
Yellow bitches, Kelly Rowlands
Stole that line from Kanye
Stupid icy, stupid icy
Sharper than a pocket knife
All my bitches love me
Like Pac, I live a thug life
Since I'm with the champions
I hold it like a trophy
I'm tripping, looking at my ring
I start thinking of Kobe
I'm looking for a small-waist
Long hair star
I stole that line from Soulja Boy
I'm standing on the bar

Hundred thousand dollars worth of champagne
Now you and your girl screaming Taylor Gang
Diamonds in the man swinging from my chain
Leave straight from the club, put you on a plane
Fly you different places, faces in my bankroll
Giant paper, so we drinking by the caseload
I think I'm Mr. T rocking all this gold
Or Eazy E, fuc*** all these hoes
And my outfit is Louis-that, Louis-this
Stay losing bottle, count these lames out here losing chicks
My weed disturb the peace, that's word to Ludacris
Get in Hollywood, now I need a clueless bitch
One who got a couple dollars, rock the newest shit
A fly nigga, ride with me, you'll be a stewardess
Shawty'll be one in your hand if you ain't got a cup
Get you back to my crib, lil mama, then it's


Gucci Mane

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