เนื้อเพลง All These B*tches - Gucci Mane

I got hard d*ck fall on these b*tches
I get all their numbers [?] cAll These B*tches
No patience for their life, just kiss my wallet b*tches
N*ggas don't know nothing else, saw these n*ggas

[Gucci Mane:]
I got a b*tch I send on runs, I put the book back in my Benz
Got her f'in with the seatbelt strapped on it cause it's my friend
Breakin bricks down in my tent, I got bills stacked to my chin
Dime of jewels cost that n*gga a nail, watch yo boy cut off a limb
Look at me then look at him
Hard top Bentley, Bentley rim
F*ck 2 sisters with the cream
And I drop topped off, I broke the rims
Back to back, b*tch call them twins
Got a hard top X and a drop top M
Call my iceberg slim, can't f*ck with him
2K on weed, yeah that's a bill
If I 5K on lean, I'm leanin now
Drunk to a whole price, I'm a drink it down
Your girlfriend's a semen demon
Big Gwap she screamin out
Drop top Rari showing cleavage
I'm on Cleveland - call it believing
Knock your b*tch til I leave no reason
Take my b*tch and call it even

[Hook:]
I got hard d*ck for all these b*tches
I get all their numbers I don't call these b*tches
No patience for relations kiss my rarri b*tches
N*ggas don't know anything else, all these n*ggas
You can hold this 30 ounce for these n*ggas
You die we hit 40 steps for shawty n*ggas
We don't trust these b*tches or these n*ggas
Got the big face rollies 40 on us n*ggas

[OJ Da Juiceman:]
N*gga tried to knock me out
But these n*ggas extra salt
How in the hell you just start robbin? Come and try to test a boss
Play the hand that I was dealt
40 make you pay the mill
I don't send no n*ggas dawg, I do that sh*t by myself
Co-defendant that's a no
Play how that sh*t flyin cold
One thing bout yo jukebox n*gga, spray the p*ssy like a score
Since you p*ssy I'm a send these hollow tips down yo throat
Killa killa, murda murda, flip that n*gga like a burger
I don't shoot for legs, so you know ain't no tip in murder
And young Juiceman they were fine, made me put you on the murder
Smoke you like a cancer stick
Make yo mama dimmeloner
Talkin all that tough talk
But yo ass know you baloney
Wanna go to war? Make the Gatling talking like I'm Tony

[Hook:]
I got hard d*ck for all these b*tches
I get all their numbers I don't call these b*tches
No patience for relations kiss my rarri b*tches
N*ggas don't know anything else, all these n*ggas
You can hold this 30 ounce for these n*ggas
You die we hit 40 steps for shawty n*ggas
We don't trust these b*tches or these n*ggas
Got the big face rollies 40 on us n*ggas