Long Money Lyrics - Return Of Mr. Zone 6 - Gucci Mane

Jacuzzi on the roof 

Ugly hoes don't get the time of day 

Chiefing on sativa 

Smell the reefer from a mile away 

Pistol in my coupe 

Try my troops 

You'll get blown away 

Gucci Mane got long money 

Bitch that's all I got to say 

Gucci mane got long money 

That's what them bitches say 

Gucci mane got long money 

That's what them bitches say 

Gucci mane got long money 

That's what them bitches say 

I ain't even gotta talk 

My money conversate 

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We been stunting 

Got a money tree 

I drown the bitch with money 

Ferrari with 

Them bumble-bee 

Forgiato sitting up under it 

("How many carats in that bracelet baby?") 

I think about 200 

Plus I hit the club with 50k 

Let's keep this shit 100 

Got a couple houses 

Ghetto spouses 

In my penthouse 

Smoking ounces 

Came up selling ki's and ounces 

Half a pound 

White, Gold, and Brown 

My pants sag 

Grams wear 'em down 

These kats are trying to go downtown 

Just to walk around and window shop 

I shut them all down everytime 

Everytime that I hit the scene 

Fresher than I wanna be 

Cover of the magazine 

Back of the limousine 

Stacks in my denim jeans 

Hoes gone remember me 

458 ship to me from Italy 

612 sitting outside the facilities 

911 Gucci ice game killing me 

Came a long way from drug dealing 

Waking up rich is a great feeling 

Couple million stashed for my grandchildren 

Just hand counted me a coupe half million 

Up on 'em 

Pull up on 'em 

Like a bird drop low 

And shit on 'em 

Piss on 'em 

Spit on 'em 

Tell them haters Gucci got rich on 'em 

It's GUCCI!! 

Every city 

I make magic 

I make money disappear 

Cause they attracted me 

How clear these diamonds 

Blinging in my ear 

So many wanna marry me 

I'm married to the game 

Cocaine put me in position 

Swagger brought me all the fame 

I need accountants to help me count it 

Rolls-Royce I mount it 

Corvette painted candy 

Drop the top 

And bitches crowd it 

Houses in Zone 6 

All my niggas hustlers 

And robbers 

Don't fuck with us 

You'd be better off 

Fucking off with Angel Dust 

I'm racked up 

Like a pool table 

Stay draped up 

And Purple Label 

Drank purple drank 

Smoke purple weed 

Got a purple car 

And long paper 

Every day thank the Lord that I wake 

Every day living like my last day 

Shine so bright rock stupid ice 

More carats in my chain than a carrot cake 

Money short 

He running out 

I'm bussin' out 

Can't close the vault 

Ain't my fault 

It's yo fault 

Nobody stays here 

This my money's house 

Stash house 

Stocked up 

Try to fuck shit 

Get chopped up 

I'm rocked up 

Stay blocked up 

I ain't locked up 

But I'm guaped up 

It's GUCCI!!!