Pancakes (feat. Waka Flocka & 8ball)

[Intro]

Yahhhhhhh, it's Gucci!

Birds, go!

Birds, it's Dirty, Birds

It's Gucci

[Gucci Mane]

I'm an East Atlanta rider

You gon' fuck around and get ya whole clique tied up

My brain fried; I'm on the skull of the Impala

I'm high on kush, it's 'bout my money mixed with power

So keep it brief

Nigga, two hundred thousand in the fleece

Pistols, two hundred twenty on the dash

System, I pull off it look like a flash

Picture, cheeeeeese!

I got the 24's, those 74 for 2's

When you was on the stage, Gucci was on the news

But bitch don't pity me, I look like Mr. T

I pimp like Soulja Slim, but I think I'm Eazy-E

It's Gucci

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]

Patty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakes

I touched down with hash browns and serve 'em with the pancakes

Patty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakes

Got flapjacks, hash browns and syrup in my crack space

Patty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakes

I touched down with hash browns and serve 'em with the pancakes

Patty cake, patty cake, I serve you niggaz pancakes

Flapjacks, hash browns and syrup in my crack space

It's Gucci

[Waka Flocka Flame]

I'm the young nigga all the old head love dawg (FLOCKA!)

I ain't lettin shit slide, this ain't baseball (BRICK SQUAAAD!)

Banned in 45 states cause

I'm too real

Waka Flocka like a Gucci album,

I'm hard to kill

I don't think they fuckin with me whether

I'm locked dead or in jail

I'm from Clayon County,

Riverdale so I'm supposed to give 'em hell

I'm aware the grass got snakes,

I'm aware they gon' hate

You too late, I'll be damned you take this dinner off our plate

Dirty Birds, Dirty Birds, twenty-one gun salute and got killed

It's Bankhead Brick Squad out in U.K., these niggaz ain't fuckin with me

Mob up off that run day, SK's, AK's

Throwaways I let that triple up like {?} triple beam we crackin

[Chorus]

[8Ball]

Gucci Mane, Waka Flocka and ya boy big Ball

Hard from the start; I ain't never been no fuckin lame

Here I go with Waka Flocka,

here I go with Gucci Mane

One of a kind - that Memphis 10 runnin through my bloodstream

Ghetto superstar - man them hood bitches love me

Cup full of that ol' purple drank, pullin on some of that stanky dank

Pocket full of Benny Frank and bitch, what the fuck you thank?

45 hollowheads in my stout, yellow purt{?}

I hope one of these ol' bitch bitch-ass niggaz don't cross that line and get hurt

Money what we came to get, money what we represent

You ain't talkin 'bout shit if you ain't talkin 'bout gettin it

Hard hustle never fold, forever I will be cold

Forever I will be big Ball, mouth full of gold

[Chorus]