[ Featuring Raury ]
I got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me go get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me go get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead guys
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to watch the feds
And I love sellin' cake pies
It's a bad bitch in my bed and she got that stupid head
Call me Versace shop, shawty, catch me walkin' out of 5ths
With a lil Glock 40 and a couple extra clips
Lenox Mall in the closet, all my hoes exotic
And ain't that shit ironic that my doors go up, robotic? (Gucci!)
I can walk the shit and I can talk the shit
I can talk the shit cause I got it
It's Gucci Mane, I'm a walkin' lick
Got dead people in my pocket
Fallin' off in Follie's, got a bag full of the mollies
A half a mil' all profit, and my music got her jockin'
I got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me go get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me go get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to get this bread
I've been livin' like a king all week
I'm a peasant at the end of every day
I've been chillin' with my niggas in the streets
Livin' like a vagabond, wild, free, run away
Reminiscin' 'bout them bored summer days
Blowin' haze on the east side of Atlanta
Makin' moves on the shawty, a Hispania
We don't speak the same language so excuse me if I stammer
I understand you wanna pick up the hammer
And build up your own, she see her brother climbin' the ladder
It's your time, yeah it's somethin' that you figure
I mean you can do it too but you can't be a bitch ass nigga
Get up off your ass, find a f*ckin' craft
Make bread, get it back, give it back times 2
Who are you? Look in the mirror
Don't give a f*ck what they think, you're the one, you're the truth
Got the juice, got the juice, got the juice, got the juice
Mothaf*cka you the man like an 8th grade Jew
You can chew through any zebra ass in the zoo
Any nigga tryna act hard as some leather boots, f*ck them
And anyone tryna step on you, fire burnin'
Make a livin', stack a sum and watch your paper
Now and later ain't really good time
For a nigga 'bout his business on Wood Crest Manor
I got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me go get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me go get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to get this bread
