Volume - Instrumental
Quelle: Spotify
I'm so motherfuckin' turned up right now
Someone please turn Gucci Mane down
Brick Squad thugged out, we don't give a fuck
We hit the club, shoot the club, tear the club up
So you should hit the floor. Get low and shut up
Hit the floor, get low and shut the fuck up
You's a bitch, you's a snitch, you a motherfuckin' scrub
[Verse 1 - Gucci Mane]
I pulled up in a 4-door Porsche, set-trippin'
3 young dreadhead niggas riding with me
I don't think they like me and I don't like em neither
But if they move wrong, I'll red up their white beater
I do it for the hood, I do it like no equal
I do it for the red, black, yellow, white people
I just bought a K, just the other day
And I don't play with grown men: I don't like to play
I'm so motherfuckin' turned up right now
Niggas hang on me, I don't give a fuck right now
Well you niggas keep on trying like the little engine that could
You think you can, you think you could, I think you pussies should
[Hook]
[Verse 2 - Gucci Mane]
Call me Gucci Flocka Flame, I dun changed my name
Call me Frenchie Mane La Flare, Gucc' the Kid..it's all the same
I be running, gunning, stunting with 100 killers riding
You snitching, bitching, tattle-telling, scared to stand beside me
I just bought another house just to house my goons
So Icey Entertainment, boy, we just like a platoon
The colors in my chain remind me of a cartoon
I'll murk your boy in March, they didn't find that boy til June
I wish they found him August so that's like "too much too soon"
His face was swoll and puffy, bout the color of a prune
Brick Squad Movement and, no, you're not apart of it
Me, Waka and Wu, Juice and Frenchie Mane started it
[Hook]
[Verse 3 - Wu the Kid]
Iced out bar got me ballin' like the Lakers
Homicide around the corner. Where you, in Jamaica?
My volume on max, you boys better run
I'm a Nigga With an Attitude holding on the gun
17 niggas, I left 16 hit
Last nigga hit the corner, got his whole head split
Told you you're a goner, I'mma leave you dead quick
I'm like Wu the Kid, thugged out, we don't give a fuck
Let your soul meet the sole of the bottom of my Chucks
Black car, black tint with the baby tags
Stay low to the floor, my midget out the bag
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