lirik lagu gucci mane - can't interfere wit my money
[verse 1: gucci mane]
i done robbed n-ggas, been robbed n-gga
i done shot n-ggas, been shot at n-gga
if you love your n-ggas you fire for your n-ggas
cause waka my n-gga, i’d die for my n-gga
spent seventy-five on this rollie’
tote a .45 like the police
if i’m a ho, come show me
big gucci o.g. like tookie
if you told her why just like pookie
then i’mma gonna have to k!ll a junky
since nino snitched at the end my n-gga he cannot be my role model
like big meech, like john gotti
i ain’t never told on n0body
got tear drops, but n0body
blew your brains out your head to make you think about it
i’m cancerous, i’m the dangerous
and i don’t need no n-gga, i can handle this
i got good aim, i don’t panic quick
and i have a n-gga funeral candle lit
like dunk say, you wanna rob n-gga, well me and you probably on the same sh-t
this ain’t a l!ck, and i don’t know you
‘fore i shake your hand, i put a hole in it
[hook: gucci mane]
you ain’t gonna bring me my bread n-gga
can’t interfere with my money
i’mma put change on your head n-gga
can’t interfere with my money
heard you snitching to the feds n-gga
they can’t interfere with my money
i ain’t got time to be playing with ya’
can’t interfere with my money
heard you ain’t got no money no more
but it can’t interfere with my money
say that you running up on me n-gga
but it can’t interfere with my money
fronted you some and you still ain’t paid
but it can’t interfere with my money
like i’m a b-tch, i’m gon’ let you play
but it can’t interfere with my money
[verse 2: gucci mane]
treat the rap game like the trap game, so you can’t interfere with my money
treat these rap n-ggas like little kids, when you do wrong you get punished
i’m an m.c. but i’m from the street, these f-ck n-ggas ain’t one-hundred
got monkey nuts on my handgun, so my nine hold ’bout two-hundred
seen a youtube, ’bout a n-gga saying that he gon’ do me then run it
but the only thing he gon’ do is start running when i start gunning
‘fore i’m talking to you, i’m busting at you, this russian prolly crack your bone marrow
let your brother be your pallbearer, shoot you in your head like cousin harold
all my n-ggas got pistols on ’em, all my guns got extensions on ’em
turned your favorite rapper to a victim, homie
and no witnesses to be snitching on me
say the n-gga died with his pistol on him
crime scene, taking pictures of him
had a wake funeral and a shower for him
when you see the n-gga, lay a flower on him
[hook]
[verse 3: og boo dirty]
gangster as i wanna be, mobbing to the third degree
no n-gga gon’ f-ck with me, i keep them shooters ’round me
and i don’t really f-ck with n-gga, why the f-ck they trying me?
my hand where that nine be, two shots through your eyelids
these rap n-ggas getting distorted, that’s why i’m glad i’m a trap n-gga
million dollar strap n-gga, brains in your lap n-gga
o.g. of my city, check my status n-gga
shooting like john paxson n-gga
my goons automatic n-gga
when it’s time to ride out, my n-ggas don’t hide out
choppers in the hideout, time to break the iron out
we k!lling for them rubber bands, bombing like afghanistan
pull up in a hummer truck, spit fire out like i’m drummer boy
[hook]
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