Aw-Man Yatta Man (Ft. .45 & Gucci Mane)

[Hook: .45]
Yo trap don't boom like mine
Yo paper ain’t longer than mine, than mine
Aw man {​*8X*}​
Yo bitch ain't finna than mine, than mine
Yo rims ain't talla than mine, than mine
Aw man {​*8X*}​

[Verse 1: Yatta Man]
You never seen a thug like this aw man
I’m choppin down them bricks tryin to wipe Jackie Chan
My money come fast, my work come in grams
My soldiers keep straps like they work for Uncle Sam
My chain like ugh, my wrist like damn!
I show up at the jewler with a hundred thousand cash
Drop top Porsche, inside DAMN
Outside red lookin like a Coke can
I keep a pretty brown round and young yellow
I gotta butta pecan Rican and a French vanilla
My trap boom hard, my bitch real fine
Poppi on the way, we call it crunch time

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Gucci Mane]
I'mma lean with it, serve a fiend with it
On the block since the age of thirteen with it
In the kitchen water whippin, a thousand eight grams
I'm standin over the stove and I'm doin it with one hand
Aw man, fruit man, Toucan sam, two hundred and seven gram
Got yam, a long Lamb', I'm sellin that grown man
Aw man, I'm on that Kush tonight
And I ain't stoppin chopper hit’chu and your body start rockin
My chain got pneumonia, watch got the bird flu
Came to the club smellin like a pound of purple
Big Cat ruckus, nigga it’s a movement
This ain't hip-hop, this is drug dealer music