Gucci Mane - Suicide Homicide lyrics

You decide to keen your pride I ain't waiting ain't got no patience Raised by the Grove I ain't got an education 24 7 shawty f** a vacation Lost a real n***a why you go to the station Dam D-mars why these f** n***as hating Can't be p**y why god had to take 'em Free my n***a Moe 25 years he facing I'm from the Grove Street, that's my nation Hoes on point, never lose a concentration New black 'rari, got a n***a try and race it Fresh off probabation, say whats up to the Haitians Solo rotation, got a n***a gon' point Case of the case, when this sh** gon' stop Run up on me(Cl-cl-cl-)POW! POW! Man bout to drop I'm a Brick Squad crop. The crowd screamin' Waka Flock! Man you rad! Dude you go hard! I yelled out squad! Crowd yell out squad! I'm livin' at hell, I'm only scared of God Suicide paint, suicide rims Suicide loud, I got them suicide friends Suicide b**hes they will k** for a n***a Call it suicide run upon me for a n***a Homicide purp', homicide vert Homicide your a** and put your a** on a shirt Homicide ice, homicide life Homicide your kids and you motherf**er wife, Catch up Imma rich man sparking, a rich man coughin Dead man walkin, dead man talkin' I'm the man with the grams, get your bags get your weight Call me Bakerman, 'cause I can bake a cake Gucci Drop top rarri, call it headless horseman Cooking up babies, call that sh** abortion Roaming through the 6 like a mothaf**in' orphan I think I k**ed your roll dog and put him in a coffin When its on again grab a tone again No pad or pen I gotta win BSM and 1017 my whole squad be going in Suicide is a homicide I smoke so much my brain is fried Ferrari boyz and Ferrari toys Pullin' up lookin' like the gotti boyz Suicide paint, suicide rims Suicide loud, I got them suicide friends Suicide b**hes they will k** for a n***a Call it suicide run upon me for a n***a Homicide purp, homicide vert Homicide your a** and put your a** on a shirt Homicide ice, homicide life Homicide your kids and you motherf**er wife, Catch up Doors go up we just call it suicide I ain't playin, I'm just praying its a homicide Its 1017 that mean its time for BSM Bread to win, that's for Pop Joe and Bos and Bim Test what, test that, test this Your bet your real lab rat I'll let a test bit Running with the cannon I ain't talkin' nick I put 7 on your chest like Emm dot VICK Murder n***a, murder n***a Real short fuse I hurta n***a Wood Da Kid, Wooh Da King I'm married to my strap and I don't need a ring