[Pre-Intro: Skit]
Sentence should now-now be pronounced I'll ask that you stand for sentence, please. Mr. *** it is the sentence of the court that your custody be committed to the department of corrections for confinement of the *** state prisons without possibility of parole for the remainder of your life. You may be seated
[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
Imma teach this hoes a lesson
Bitch you know you ain't finessin' me
I thought you knew my pedigree
You niggas lack integrity
A handguns a necessity
But AR's are my speciality
I got heroin lean and ecstasy
But cookin' dope my speciality
Say gucci gotta murder one
I kill'em allegely
I'm not the average celebrity
Can't let you get the best of me
Amateur ? ?
Leave his ass in bandages
My homeboy doing 40 years, I don't know how he manages
All you niggas tryna handle me, but I know how to handle it
Hit the block, shoot 50 shots
His funeral was candle lit
I fronted him he didn't take advantage of disadvantages
I'm loadin' my choppa, listenin' to Pac I'm finna murk all my enemies
[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
War ready
You got shooters, I’ve got shooters
We’ve got money
Let’s do what them other niggas can’t do
Mastermind, uhh, uhh
Nigga got a thousand guns, nigga (Dade County)
If money is power, nigga, then I’ve got millions of power, nigga
Hahaha! Miami shit
Fuck with me nigga, huh?
Sentence should now-now be pronounced I'll ask that you stand for sentence, please. Mr. *** it is the sentence of the court that your custody be committed to the department of corrections for confinement of the *** state prisons without possibility of parole for the remainder of your life. You may be seated
[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
Imma teach this hoes a lesson
Bitch you know you ain't finessin' me
I thought you knew my pedigree
You niggas lack integrity
A handguns a necessity
But AR's are my speciality
I got heroin lean and ecstasy
But cookin' dope my speciality
Say gucci gotta murder one
I kill'em allegely
I'm not the average celebrity
Can't let you get the best of me
Amateur ? ?
Leave his ass in bandages
My homeboy doing 40 years, I don't know how he manages
All you niggas tryna handle me, but I know how to handle it
Hit the block, shoot 50 shots
His funeral was candle lit
I fronted him he didn't take advantage of disadvantages
I'm loadin' my choppa, listenin' to Pac I'm finna murk all my enemies
[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
War ready
You got shooters, I’ve got shooters
We’ve got money
Let’s do what them other niggas can’t do
Mastermind, uhh, uhh
Nigga got a thousand guns, nigga (Dade County)
If money is power, nigga, then I’ve got millions of power, nigga
Hahaha! Miami shit
Fuck with me nigga, huh?
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