Tate Kobang - Gucci Back (2016)

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Tate Kobang - Gucci Back lyrics

Trap god, bumpin’
Gucci back, bumpin’
Trap god, bumpin’
Clouds only, bumpin’

[Verse 1]
Got junkie niggas out here poppin’ percs and fucking trans
I been in the kitchen cooking up and counting grams
Human target practice, we ain’t bustin’ at no cans
Pull up at your show and get to poppin’ at your fans
Heard they lookin’ for me, come and catch me if you can
I’m outchea if you want me, ain’t no talking on the gram
Black flag swinging, I ain’t blood, I ain’t crip
But I know some young niggas that’ll wet a nigga’s shit
I been rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, I ain’t slept in ‘bout a week
I been thuggin’, pistol totin’, F&N under the sheet
I heard Gucci back home, nigga brought the trap back
Give a stripper fifty flat but only get the pussy fat
Bought my daughter yellow diamonds
She said, "daddy, Lemonade!”
Don't compare me to these local rappers, our pay ain't the same
I ain't switch up cause the fame, I just ain't moving the same
Cause I heard your favorite rapper out here telling names
6 stoves in the house, nigga everybody cooking
Bet your ass get booked and tell on everybody in the booking
Get your baby mama fucked and all them drugs you holding, took it
Fuck that nigga Donald Trump and BCPD ‘cause they crooked
See that nigga in the club with all them racks and got ‘em tooken
Count the bread inside the closet in case my baby mama looking, fuck ‘em

Tate Kobang, ay
Trap back, ay
Gucci back, ay
Cloud back, bumpin’
Gucci Mane, bumpin’
Tate Kobang, bumpin’
They ain’t want none

Good kush bring a nigga in the kitchen, good cooking
And I know I might be early but my watch is good looking
All my bitches good looking, man this pistol good looking
Only fuck the bitch raw if her mama good looking, woah
Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah, god
What up Roc, 300, D1