Game

[Intro: Gucci Mane]

Yup! Yup!

Gucci Mane in this motherfucker (Gucci Gucci)

My nigga Zo' on the track (my nigga Zo')

That real shit, that real shit

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]

I'm a hood rich nigga, I ain't never had shit

I really ain't shit; niggas talkin 'bout me

But they really ain't shit, they ain't said shit

It don't make dollars, it don't make cents/sense

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]

I ain't never had shit nigga that's the truth

Rich kids in the school used to jones my shoes

Name stayed on the board, fo' checks in chalk

In detention cause the teacher say that we can't talk

Counselor raggin and my momma got that I just walk

I wish I had a nickel for every fight I fought

Stealin candy out the sto' like I can't get caught

Just a lil' bad black boy, it ain't my fault

After school snack syrup and fo' pieces of bread

Granddaddy why yo' eyes so God damn red?

"Got a real soft ass and a hard-ass head

Better mind your fuckin manners boy," that's what he said

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]

I'm a hood rich nigga, I ain't never had shit

I really ain't shit; niggas talkin 'bout me

But they really ain't shit, they ain't said shit

It don't make dollars, it don't make cents/sense

[Verse 2: OJ Da Juiceman]

I moved to East Atlanta at the age of 9

Real cold winter, 1989

My brother good at ball, I can't play no sports

They won't let you pack a tool on the b-ball court

Cluster Ave, Monty Paul, where my daddy now?

Things goin alright, we a family now

Got the dopeman Nikes and the Starter coat

Only nigga in school with the dopeman rope

Pull the joint two times, man I'm high already

I like that girl with them braids and them high-top Chevys

Got that bump for stick-up, Starter and the big boy chest

Tried to take it on the train but I just couldn't let him

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]

I'm a hood rich nigga, I ain't never had shit

I really ain't shit; niggas talkin 'bout me

But they really ain't shit, they ain't said shit

It don't make dollars, it don't make cents/sense

[Verse 3: Kourtney Money]

14 gettin drunk at a house party

They locked me up, they must have hid a half a ounce on me

Momma mad as a mother', daddy let him be

Gucci Mane, raised me to be a straight up G

Now my daddy hustle hard, but he love sum liquor

And my momma wanna leave him but she love the nigga

Everything kinda changed when I turned 16

Got the old school Regal with the chrome back rings

Like a newborn baby, man that bitch clean

But the motor fucked up and the transmission

And it's knockin down the street with the 415's

In Mackmile parkin lot, stright whipping

And I'm Bankhead bouncin, fo' hoes want me

Hit the half and give me two dimes for 15

And my mind's on gettin rich by all means

In the trap, cause this rap shit was just my dream

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]

I'm a hood rich nigga, I ain't never had shit

I really ain't shit; niggas talkin 'bout me

But they really ain't shit, they ain't said shit

It don't make dollars, it don't make cents/sense