Pancakes Lyrics - 8 Ball

Yeah, it's Gucci! 

Birds, go! 

Birds, it's Dirty, Birds 

It's Gucci 

I'm an East Atlanta rider 

You gon' fuck around and get ya whole clique tied up 

My brain fried; I'm on the skull of the Impala 

I'm high on kush, it's 'bout my money mixed with power 

So keep it brief 

Nigga, two hundred thousand in the fleece 

Pistols, two hundred twenty on the dash 

System, I pull off it look like a flash 

Picture, cheeeeeese! 

I got the 24's, those 74 for 2's 

When you was on the stage, Gucci was on the news 

But bitch don't pity me, I look like Mr. T 

I pimp like Soulja Slim, but I think I'm Eazy-E 

It's Gucci 

[Chorus] 

Patty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakes 

I touched down with hash browns and serve 'em with the pancakes 

Patty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakes 

Got flapjacks, hash browns and syrup in my crack space 

Patty cake, patty cake, I hop around with pancakes 

I touched down with hash browns and serve 'em with the pancakes 

Patty cake, patty cake, I serve you niggaz pancakes 

Flapjacks, hash browns and syrup in my crack space 

It's Gucci 

I'm the young nigga all the old head love dawg (FLOCKA!) 

I ain't lettin shit slide, this ain't baseball (BRICK SQUAAAD!) 

Banned in 45 states cause I'm too real 

Waka Flocka like a Gucci album, I'm hard to kill 

I don't think they fuckin with me whether I'm locked dead or in jail 

I'm from Clayon County, Riverdale so I'm supposed to give 'em hell 

I'm aware the grass got snakes, I'm aware they gon' hate 

You too late, I'll be damned you take this dinner off our plate 

Dirty Birds, Dirty Birds, twenty-one gun salute and got killed 

It's Bankhead Brick Squad out in U.K., these niggaz ain't fuckin with me 

Mob up off that run day, SK's, AK's 

Throwaways I let that triple up like ? triple beam we crackin 

[Chorus] 

Gucci Mane, Waka Flocka and ya boy big Ball 

Hard from the start; I ain't never been no fuckin lame 

Here I go with Waka Flocka, here I go with Gucci Mane 

One of a kind - that Memphis 10 runnin through my bloodstream 

Ghetto superstar - man them hood bitches love me 

Cup full of that ol' purple drank, pullin on some of that stanky dank 

Pocket full of Benny Frank and bitch, what the fuck you thank? 

45 hollowheads in my stout, yellow purt ? 

I hope one of these ol' bitch bitch-ass niggaz don't cross that line and get hurt 

Money what we came to get, money what we represent 

You ain't talkin 'bout shit if you ain't talkin 'bout gettin it 

Hard hustle never fold, forever I will be cold 

Forever I will be big Ball, mouth full of gold 

[Chorus]