OMG Bro Gucci Mane & Young Thug

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
Hold up, homes, I got my gold on, homes
I roll with real life robbers but can't do no wrong
I got a jet black tone, all black foams
And I might crack your dome like I just cracked my iPhone
My pants sagging low but baby this is (?)
Twenty thousand every pocket so my belt can't help it
Green and white sweater, bitch, but I'm no Celtic
Chilling in the M-Town, but I'm not Elvis
Velour Versace jogging suit (this not velvet!)
Thirty pints for me to drink (I'm so selfish!)
A nigga went broke and his main ho pregnant
Gucci cash got low bet the whole crest felt it
I snatch a nigga chain out, hey let's melt it
Got lit for sixty bricks so I just MapQuest it
I smoke blunts for dinner and I drink lean for breakfast
I put four O's of lean in a lil' bitty Mistic

[Chorus: Young Thug]
Hey, okay, okay (Okay then)
You gonna take it no way (No way then)
Yep, motherfuck, yep motherfuck
Money talk, credit talk
Guwop, my blood brother
Put my ice in your cup, it might not melt (Oh my God, bro)
Got my Olympic Jordans on, I'm feeling like Phelps (Oh my God, bro)
I'm cashed out like Mike, no Epps (I'm gonna cash out)
Versace on my boxers, look like a belt (Oh my God, bro)