Don’t Have a Chance Gucci Mane (Ft. Bobby V)

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
I killed off all the competition, didn't get no recognition
I’m steady shippin', flippin', whippin'
Cookin' caine in the kitchen
I got a couple pistol charges, but gone keep me a ratchet
I smoke two ounces everyday, I got a real bad habbit
I got to keep a teller with me, just to count all the cabbage
Dope houses in Sun Valley, grow houses in Cali
And they say life is a bitch, but your bitch just met me
Went to sleep rich but I woke up wealthy
I can't hang with broke niggas, naw, that’s my pet peeve
I make her go to work late, I make her get off early
I never snooze, keep a tool
That’s just how I move
On Instagram with your bitch, damn, ain't life cruel

[Chorus: Gucci Mane (Bobby V)]
Y’all niggas pull up to the club but I land on it (Pull up to the club and I land on it)
She got a ass so big, I dropped a band on it (Ass so big)
She got a friend real fine, I put my mans on it (You know I put my man on it)
She only fuck with ballers, you don't have a chance homie
Got damn, homie (Damn, homie)
Got damn, homie
She only fuck with ballers, you don’t have a chance homie
I got them fans on me (Fans on me)
Hundred grand on me (Hundred grand on me)
She only fuck with ballers, you don't have a chance homie
Got damn, homie