Game feat. Gucci Mane - Wow | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Game feat. Gucci Mane
• Wow

[Verse 1: Game]
My cup, my bitch nigga, everything major
My niggas they shoot like Indiana Pacers
Indiana hoosers don’t get marked by the laser
Raise your fucking team up, meaning hollows will pave ya
Red phantom pink slip, everything paid for
Black 24’s lips fatter than fantasia's
Had a bitch from Asia, put her up on the chronic
And her name Soo Woo, isn’t it ironic?
My bars grey goose and tonic, and when I Vomit
Respect me like Mohamed, but nigga I’m not Islamic
All about my profit, angel in the cockpit
Devil in the rearview, heaven’s the only option
Angel on the hood like Reverend Run's crooks
Today I’m feeling good riding in his holy ghost
Hate me like I’m god son, wanna see me deceased?
Break the 6th commandment if you run up on this Jesus piece

[Hook: Gucci Mane]
Wow I whip like wow, I whip like chicks with big ice style
I move like wow, I’m smoking right now
Then I say ow, cause my gun go pow

[Verse 2: Gucci Mane]
Balling, like amar'e
I’m not an athlete but it’s a track meet
I’m on a great run, the world love me
So love or hate me, it’s all gravy
So icy, so punch or break nigga
Ice cream on my face, it ain’t your face nigga
I’m on my grind constant, yeah my grind constant
While you cross counters, we cross continents
Yellow diamonds on my wrist looking like a army
I’m not a pumpkin, my trap bunkin'
I got irons, squares for you
Powerul goons, prepare for you
So what the move blood, the tattoo go
I’ma straight dog, I keep a cold flow
So what the move blood, the tattoo go
I’ma straight dog, I keep a cold flow

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Game]
Game, Gucci, we onto something major
Chains, Gucci, light it up like Vegas
Down goes Frasier, my shooters like pager
And we keep that Lupe run when you see them lasers
We bring them trailblazers smoking kush from malaysia
Still trapping, like back then, the iPhone is pagers
Click clackin, what’s happening 4.5 for you haters
Keep clapping, I’m clapping, T.I. know we takers
Nigga, I don't give a damn, I'm sick as 7 ceiling fans
Get your boss on your phone cause we don’t fuck with middle men
Hit your boss at your home fucking with my little man
Where I’m from it’s off with your dome for just a kilogram
Gucci they talking about that tat up your face
Must of forgotten them boys you shot nigga murder was the case
This summer is ours ain't a motherfucker safe
And in a fall, I'm puttin' 5 mill in a fucking safe

[Hook]

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