| I touch a lotta paper, I been havin this shit |
| I got a bookbag full of hundreds, I been stashin this shit |
| Private jet to Las Vegas, I’ve been gambling and shit |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (We ain’t the average clique) |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (ridin foreign, ridin foreign) |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (ridin foreign, ridin foreign) |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (ride-ride foreign) |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (ride-ride foreign) |
| Gimme the keys to the van, fi-fi-fifty keys in the van |
| You can bleed in the van, you can leave in the van |
| Take a chance with the man, then I’m squeezin my hand (HA!) |
| But the man in the back ain’t part of the clan |
| Slapped him with the gun 'bout as hard as I can |
| Took the dope out the van then I ran with the bands |
| If a nigga try to follow, find his head in the trash |
| Smash on your ass, I’ll blast at your ass |
| 100-yard dash in the grass for the cash |
| Brick and a Carbon-15 in the stash |
| But he still got found with his brains on the dash (EW!) |
| You a big bullet, was a fool in the past |
| Fuck that nigga, I ain’t cool with his ass |
| Two bags of the gas, now the wolves on his ass |
| Fuck around with Gucci Mane get some holes in his ass |
| Fifty goons on me when I came to the Bash |
| Po-Po-Point a nigga out that you want me to smash |
| Two size of the trap, put the trash on the track |
| If that the only son track then it might be a crash |
| Yellow ice, white ice, little shitty glass |
| Swear it’s so sick that I might have a rash |
| Rollin a blunt while I’m hittin it from the back |
| Where your name tag at while I’m dumpin the ash |
| I touch a lotta paper, I been havin this shit |
| I got a bookbag full of hundreds, I been stashin this shit |
| Private jet to Las Vegas, I’ve been gambling and shit |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (We ain’t the average clique) |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (ridin foreign, ridin foreign) |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (ridin foreign, ridin foreign) |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (Ride-ride foreign) |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (Ride-ride foreign) |
| Hahn! |
| I can’t even lie, I’m in my own lane (GUCCI!) |
| Talk so much shit cause I got my own slang (huh?) |
| Bricksquad is my own squad, I got my own gang (SQUAD!) |
| Stamps on the bricks, got my own 'caine (GUCCI!) |
| You niggas followers, don’t got they own brain (durr…) |
| Tr-Trickin off but won’t take care of they own kids (damn…) |
| This Gucci Mane and people say I’m on drugs (true) |
| I tell them people «go get on your own dick» |
| When you the boss nig-guh you make your own rules |
| I’m the only nigga that don’t need no cosigner |
| And my suede shoes match my suede headliner |
| And my closet filled with the top designers |
| I touch a lotta paper, I been havin this shit |
| I got a bookbag full of hundreds, I been stashin this shit |
| Private jet to Las Vegas, I’ve been gambling and shit |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (We ain’t the average clique) |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (ridin foreign, ridin foreign) |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (ridin foreign, ridin foreign) |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (Ride-ride foreign) |
| And I’m in love with ridin foreign (Ride-ride foreign) |