[Intro: Strap]
Drumma Boy
I got dope, I got dope, boy
I got dope, I got dope, boy
I got dope, I got dope, boy
I got dope, I got dope, boy

[Chorus: Strap]
I got work, I got work
I got work, I got work
I got pills, I got pounds, I got syrup to serve
I got work, I got work
I got work, I got work
I got pills, I got pounds, I got syrup to serve
Work, I got work
Work, I got work
Work, I got work
Work, work
Work, I got work
Work, I got work
Work, I got work
Work, work, work, work

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
Like a nigga turned around, I'm goin' back to work
J's in my hood call me Gucci Captain Kirk
Get you higher than a motherfuckin' mountain lion
Who knew at 9 I'd live a fuckin' life of crime?
Young, black and proud, send a bag of loud
I got a van, but I really need a tractor trailer
Tryna murk the swamp, I'm tryna flood Decatur
Had a team full of girls just to count the paper
I'ma bag the paper, then smash the haters
When I'm whippin' up show like mashed potatoes
I'm a orchestrater, I'ma choreograph
Get to tell 'em where to take it, telegraph
It's so much work, its got me laughin'
If you don't pay me, you'll have me spazzin'
If I don't front him, then I'm crabby
If you don't pay me, then I'll stab ya
Ten years goin' with no complaints, Pyrex pots in kitchen sinks
I'm cookin' 'caine and pushin' pints, since sellin' green done made me bank
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