
C’Yeah Gucci Mane (Ft. Chris Brown & Lil Wayne)
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "C’Yeah" от Gucci Mane (Ft. Chris Brown & Lil Wayne). Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.

[Intro: Gucci Mane]
Cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, cyeah
Cyeah, cyeah, cyeah (Polow), cyeah (Polow), cyeah
Cyeah (Zone 4), cyeah (Zone 6), cyeah, cyeah (So crazy, Zone 6, yeah)
Cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, cyeah
[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
I don't really do this much, but, baby girl, I might
Fly you, buy you crazy things 'cause you're the type I like
Cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, go get that girl right there
Cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, go get that girl right there
[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
Do you know who I am? (Huh?) Baby girl, my name the shit
I'm the shit, yeah, the shit, Gucci Mane off in this bitch
When I spit, stupid swift, I feel like I got a gift (Huh?)
Leave the truck 'bout forty thousand, but this one is on the strip
A balloon to a blimp, ladies ask me do I pimp
'Cause I walk with a limp, so much ice, you feel a drift
Light a spliff, take a whiff, if you feel like, take a sniff
Drink a fifth, pop a what? One of those, then plead the Fifth
Forty K on a Wednesday, catch me in the M
Look at me, look at them, don't I look better than him?
And my rims match my gems, pinky same color my wheels
And my drop top match my ears, no flodgin', I keep it real
Cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, cyeah
Cyeah, cyeah, cyeah (Polow), cyeah (Polow), cyeah
Cyeah (Zone 4), cyeah (Zone 6), cyeah, cyeah (So crazy, Zone 6, yeah)
Cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, cyeah
[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
I don't really do this much, but, baby girl, I might
Fly you, buy you crazy things 'cause you're the type I like
Cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, go get that girl right there
Cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, cyeah, go get that girl right there
[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
Do you know who I am? (Huh?) Baby girl, my name the shit
I'm the shit, yeah, the shit, Gucci Mane off in this bitch
When I spit, stupid swift, I feel like I got a gift (Huh?)
Leave the truck 'bout forty thousand, but this one is on the strip
A balloon to a blimp, ladies ask me do I pimp
'Cause I walk with a limp, so much ice, you feel a drift
Light a spliff, take a whiff, if you feel like, take a sniff
Drink a fifth, pop a what? One of those, then plead the Fifth
Forty K on a Wednesday, catch me in the M
Look at me, look at them, don't I look better than him?
And my rims match my gems, pinky same color my wheels
And my drop top match my ears, no flodgin', I keep it real
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