Me OK - Remix

I'mma keep it street, choppa on the seat

Spray 'em from across, Gucci Mane, I'm boss

What ya got to prove? My young niggas shoot

Let me introduce myself - I'm Gucci, I'mma

Shoot too

That choppa with the dope, I just might get

Your ass beheaded

I don't fuck with fuck niggas and they don't

Fuck with me

Watch your fuckin' mouth before I send killers

To your house

I'mma livin' legend, East Atlanta legend

The viewers scream nigga why you talk to

Other (?)

El Chapo with the dope, I just might get your

Ass beheaded

And my niggas (?) to send a message

First to tell ya "Motherfucker, trap or die", that

Me OK

Mister whip or not and get a half a pie, that

Me OK

Mister if I'm talkin' you should listen, game is

Free OK

Mister got two whole ones and two half ones,

Yeah that's three OK

Leave up out of here with two bad ones, yeah,

That's me OK

Mister re-in' up with 'bout two phantoms,

Yeah, that's me OK

On that Avion to the head, hey, but me OK

Never put a bitch before my bread, hey, now

Me OK

When L.A. Reid was in office made some

History up in Def Jam

If Jizzle ain't droppin', nigga, what the fuck is

Def Jam?

I know you heard how your boy bossed up at

Atlantic

Boss shit, might just drop my next album on

Atlantic

I really hope you bitches ready, Vice-prezzy

And his Presi

Got some shit up in my bezzy, So what ya

Sayin'? My wrist is heavy

All white, penthouse, yeah, like the one on

Belly

With a brown skin thing swear to God she look

Like Kelly

Two door Rolls is how I'm rollin', plus you

Know a nigga totin'

Keep that street nigga paper, rubber band it, it

Ain't foldin'

First the XXL, read about me in the Forbes

That's a long way from trappin' in that 4-door

Accord

Wassup

Snow can eyeball a seven, yeah you best

Believe without the scale

I just want the mansions and the riches, yeah

Without the jail

You can call me postman, don't go somewhere

Without some mail

In and out in 20 minutes, you best believe I'm

Makin' bail

Put you on designer watches, put you on

Designer frames

Had you cashin' out, payin' for, you can't

Pronounce the name

Had that Murcielago, it was green like

Margaritas

Sold yayo, I sold albums, might as well sell

Some tequila

Dropped so many Lambos, thought I was a

Lam ambassador

Dropped so many Rollies, niggas thought I

Owned the Rollie store

Snow it's been a while, yeah you know them

Streets missed you

I don't eat, sleep, or shit without my

Mothafuckin' pistol