Ice on Me

[Verse 1: Gucci] 4:30 in the mornin’ shawty man I’m high as hell A lot of coke to cook, I got alotta dope to sell You can tell I’m a dope dealer by my dress code You know that I’m a trap n**** from my grill, hoe Every bitch want a hot boy, 18-5 a pop Ain’t no law in America gon’ make the traffic stop For I give that trick a penny I’mma put it in the pot He can’t even bring it to me ‘less he bring it in a block Zip lock bag, scale, weed, pound of syrup, too Got an old school and a European [?] coupe I keep fuckin’ for hours on E like I’m fuckin-her-ile Dundee Got Brazilian, Chameleon, [?] on my feet [Chorus: Gucci Mane] Ooo gualla, gualla, gualla, man I always keep the gualla Gotta whole lotta bands on me Shawty can’t keep her eyes off me Cause theres a whole lotta ice on me (Trapaholics, bitch) Ooo gualla, gualla, gualla, man I always keep the gualla Gotta whole lotta bands on me Shawty can’t keep her eyes off me Cause theres a whole lotta ice on me [Verse 2: Gucci Mane] Flyin’ in a bon bon orange-red McLaren The crayola colored carats got your cutie starin’ Hundred [?], but everything Ralph Lauren Thousand dollar ounce same price as my insurance I’m a willy man, silly man, wit you what’s the deally? A little bird told me that you bout to take the city Gucci knapsack is filled with nothin’ but hundreds, dawg Thats the way I gotta ball, my closet like a shoppin’ mall Fifty pre rolled purple blunts cause I got bread She tried to pass it back, so I told her go ‘head Hollyhood n**** fuckin’ Hollywood hoes Hollywood dro on Hollywood Road I smoked so much purple wit her that the bitch to sleep Woke up in the mornin’ in my presidential suite She remind me of a very, very expensive bag of weed Maybe she could turn me on to some fuckin’ fiends (Damn son, where’d you find this?) [Chorus: Gucci Mane] Ooo gualla, gualla, gualla, man I always keep the gualla Gotta whole lotta bands on me Shawty can’t keep her eyes off me Cause theres a whole lotta ice on me (Trapaholics, bitch) Ooo gualla, gualla, gualla, man I always keep the gualla Gotta whole lotta bands on me Shawty can’t keep her eyes off me Cause theres a whole lotta ice on me [Verse 2: Gucci] Two fifties make a hundred, dawg, thats a damn double Gucci out there countin’ round game I’m in trouble I’m stacked like my granddaddy, slicker than my pappy I just feel like my mammy, big bucks no whammy Source Awards comin’ Triple six got the Grammy They was at the Vibe Awards I was in Miami I be M-I-A gone dawg, packin’ no clothes On the road on a No Doze wit some elb9ws Policeman got my description, street n**** the definition Never went to college but I still pay my bitch tuition In the kitchen water whippin’ egg beater I see dead people Lotta bills and lotta reefer, shop wit me its plenty cheaper I put it in the pot and I spin that shit around Used the flame to heat it up, use the water to cool it down Patek on Imma float I ain’t got no damn choice Trap bitches pussy moist when they hear my damn voice [Chorus: Gucci Mane] Ooo gualla, gualla, gualla, man I always keep the gualla Gotta whole lotta bands on me Shawty can’t keep her eyes off me Cause theres a whole lotta ice on me (Trapaholics, bitch) Ooo gualla, gualla, gualla, man I always keep the gualla Gotta whole lotta bands on me Shawty can’t keep her eyes off me Cause theres a whole lotta ice on me